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S (j FEB 1? 1933 

Poems and Idylls. 






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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2013 




Canto first : — Jerusalem 
Canto second : — The Siege 
Canto third : — The Exiles 
Canto fourth : — Gentile Glory 
Canto fifth : — The Return 


shadows of the past 
god's acre . 
the unknown dead 
the blessed dead 
in memoriam w. c. 


















PRAYER .... 












PARTED .... 













1 82 










I HOLD STILL . . . . . . . ' . .203 


LINES 207 


i RUE LOYE 211 





Gedichte sind gemalte Fensterscheiben I 

Sieht man vom Markte in die Kirche hinein, 

Da ist alles dunkel und duster, 

Und so siehfs anch dcr Herr Philister ; 

Der mag denn wol verdrieszlich sein 

Und lebenslang verdrieszlich bleiben. 

Kommt aber nur ein?nal herein I 
Begriiszt die heilige Kapelle ; 
Da isfs auf einmal farbig hellc. 
Geschichf und Zierath glanzt in ScJuielle, 
Bedeutend wirkt ein edler Schein ; 
Dies wird Ench Kindern Gottes taugen. 
Erbaut Euch und ergbtzt die Augeu. 





" By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, 
Yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion." 


" C'est la. le mystere apres lequel soupirent toutes les ames exilees 
qui s'affligent sur les fleuves de Babylon, en se souvenant de Sion.' 




















Blue Evening sleeps on Zion's hill, 
And mild is the holy, fragrant air, 
Hushed is the sacred choir, and still : 
Heart voices only breathe the prayer. 
All toil has ceased ; awhile is bowed 
In silent prayer the awestruck crowd. 

The trumpet's sound the air has riven, 
In silver notes it swells along, 
And echoes thro' the bright blue heaven, 
Clear as the Nightingale's sweet song ; 
And see ! the clouds of incense rise 
From many a holy sacrifice ; 
On every house-top knees are bent 
In humble prayer and penitent. 



Oh ! who has knelt in holy prayer 
On Zion's mount, and would not there, 
From dawn of morn till starry even, 
Still supplicate the throne of Heaven ? 

Moriah's hill ! where Abraham's faith, 
When sorely tried, and found sincere, 
Received his son as if from death, 
All men with sacred love revere. 
There Zion's temple stands, the pride 
Of Jewry and the world beside, 
Round which the dust of sages sleeps, 
And God's own eye its vigils keeps. 
There, angels from His shining throne 
In messages of love and grace 
Proclaimed His will in ages gone 
To Abraham's beloved race. 


All hail ! thou holy mountain, where 
Is ever heard the voice of prayer : 
Ezekiel's feet thy turf once trod, 
And, in a vision, edified, 
He saw that glorious house of God 
Which as thy crown shall yet abide. 


Isaiah heard the heavenly choir 

Sing, " Holy, holy, holy, Lord," 

And here his lips were cleansed by fire, 

Ere he the sacred Name adored. 

From hence he hurled his Burdens forth 

Against the nations of the earth. — 

And here the Royal Minstrel poured 

His golden numbers to the Lord. 

Xo other spot on earth has known 

Such glories ! — they are thine alone. 


The wind is hushed, the night is still, 
The Paschal moon o'er Zion's hill 
Rains down her beams of holy light 
L^pon the sacred air of Night ; 
And sweetly sounds lone Kedron's stream, 
As music in a fairy dream. 
Slowly the silent hours are told, 
Till Morning from his locks of gold 
Shakes sparkling dews in pearls away, 
And opens wide the gates of Day ! 
From every country, — every clime, — 
Come proselytes at Paschal-time, 
To pay their homage to the King 
Of Heaven, and their offerings bring. 
The Indian prince in shining gold, 
And Afric's hunter stern and bold ; 


The patriarchal Arab sheik, 
With hoary locks and swarthy cheek, 
Whose lofty brow and piercing eye 
Both tell of noble lineage high. 
Assyria sends her warlike son, 
And Grecia many a noble one. 
And men unknown, from farthest East, 
Come now to keep the Paschal feast. 
The trumpet's signal sound is given ; 
The smoke ascending up to heaven 
From morning sacrifice, with prayer, 
Moves slowly through the hallowed air. 


And now the Temple's holy ground 
The thronging multitudes surround, — 
The golden gates ; the bright abode 
Where dwell the holy priests of God ; 
And central Temple's turrets rise, 
Like fingers pointing to the skies. — 
A thousand Levites serving, wait 
On priests in holy worship bowed, 
Four thousand more attend the gate 
There to admit the silent crowd, 
Four thousand singers raise on high 
God's holy praise in minstrelsy ; 
Between each pause of prayer, they sing 
The Psalms of Israel's Warrior King. 



Musica ! daughter of the skies ! 

How oft, when godless passions rise, 

Hast thou a holy calmness shed 

O'er aching heart or burning head ! 

Thy voice has made the wildest fears 

To melt away in painless tears. 

But oh ! how sweet when sacred song 

Echoed through holy aisles along. 

Of Zion's fane in chant and psalm, 

In Morning's hush, or Evening's cairn ; 

And bore like incense to the skies 

The thankful heart's best sacrifice ! 

Such moments are a foretaste given 

While yet on earth of joys of heaven. 

Happy the soul so pure and calm 

Who joins in such sweet chant and psalm 

Which, soaring dovelike to the skies, 

Upbears the heart in ecstacies. 


Amid the songs of praises there, 
Which rise to God at morn and even, 
Is heard the voice of Adah's prayer ; 
As she assails the ear of Heaven, 
Hers are the sweetest notes that rise 
In love and rapture to the skies ! 


And hers the holiest prayers that tell 

To God the hopes she loves so well. 

Her spirit loved the courts of God, 

Where, with her brother she abode, 

He the High Priest of Aaron's line, 

And she his sister, half divine ! 

Now while she touched her harp's bright strings, 

When prayer and sacrifice were o'er, 

A holy psalm with joy she sings, 

Which angels up to heaven bore. 


Praise God, ye nations ! praise His Name 
With cheerful songs for mercies given. 
His goodness lasts in love the same — 
Praise ye, O praise the King of Heaven. 


To Him your portals open wide, 
Admit Him and His shining train : 
On earth vouchsafes He to abide — 
With joy His heralds entertain. 


Messiah's day the Lord declares: 
Rejoice, ye people ! sing glad songs ; 
Your joy the outcast heathen shares, 
Messiah's Name to all belongs. 



Hosannas to His Name be sung, 
And Alleluias to Him given, 
By every tribe and every tongue 
Of men on earth and saints in heaven. 


Messiah ! take Thy rightful throne, 
Great David's kingly sceptre bear, 
To Thee, and unto Thee alone 
We look for help ; — O hear our prayer ! 



The gentle wish, — the holy prayer 

To heaven ascend — find entrance there 

Before the throne of God. 
But deeds of sin and wrath and wrong, 
Tho' suffered patiently and long, 
Will God's dire vengeance sore prolong 

Whene'er He lifts His rod. 
False Judah's sin, from age to age, 
Despite the warning of the Sage, 

Or holy Priest or Seer, 
Had grown beyond all bounds so great, 
That Judges, sitting at the gate, 
For love of gold, equivocate, 

Nor law nor truth revere. 
With idols foul God's holy place 
Abounded ; and such foul disgrace 
Marked the degraded populace 
In every deed and word, 


That few revere Jehovah's shrine, 
Few to His holy laws incline, 
Few battle for the Lord. 

To vilest gods of wood and stone 
Beneath the groves, on mountains lone 

Their evil rites were held. 
And there, most shameful to behold, 
With deeds too sinful to be told, 
They worshipped, like their sires of old, 

Who 'gainst the Lord rebelled, — 
Moloch, besmeared with blood and tears, 
Foul god, who children's voices hears, 
Tho' drowned by drumming noise. 
Chemosh, the god of wanton rites, 
Their worship foul, alas ! invites, 
And sinful zeal employs. 
To Baalim and Ashtaroth 
They plight their wicked maudlin troth, 

Yea, all the horrid crew 
Which men devise to please their lust — 
On which to fix a baffled trust, 
Like building piled on yielding dust, 

With God, the Rock, in view. 



Vengeance for sin, tho' long delayed, 

Will surely come at last \ 
Then idle words in anguish prayed 

Are borne upon the blast, 
And never reach Jehovah's ear, 

Or ne'er are heard on high ; 
And Mercy, mocked for many a year, 

Brings only Justice nigh. 
God's curse came down upon the land 

In vengeance sore and dread ; 
Jehovah lifted high His hand 

To strike the rebels dead, 
Who long had mocked at Mercy's smile, 

And scouted Pity's tear ; 
Who worshipped idols base and vile, 

Who no reproof would hear 
From Prophets, sent by God most high, 
Who waits to hear the suppliant's cry, 
Who bringeth His salvation nigh 

To all who will repent. 
Alas ! the sin-beclouded mind 
Is to all truth and warning blind, 

And to all evil lent. 
The Prophet asks : " Why will ye die ? " 
The people still believe a lie. 



Assyria comes with all her host, 

And hems the city in ; 
Judah proclaims her idle boast 
In Egypt ; who when wanted most 
Hath disappeared, like fabled ghost, 

And left her in her sin. 
God's prophet now, the people doom 
To plunge into a living tomb, — 

A dungeon foul and dread. 
And there, alas ! for many a day, 
In darkness, filth, and miry clay, 
The holy Seer neglected lay 

Forsaken as one dead. 
But war was at the gate without, 
The Gentile legions' lusty shout 

Was heard both far and near, 
And Famine, with her wolfish eye, 
Saw men in trembling groups go by, 
And heard the hungry mothers' cry, 

Whom their own children fear. 


The heathen gathered far and near 

Around the city wall \ 
Now shine the glittering sword and spear 


And bow and shield in pomp appear. 

Now many to the watchman call : 
" Say, watchman from yon turret high, 
Is any succour drawing nigh 
To save the city ere we die ? " 
The watchman strains his eager sight 

And holds his beating heart. 
But ah ! for many a day and night 
Nought could he see from his lone height, 

No hope of help impart. 
At last a muffled noise he hears, 
A dancing gleam of steel appears ! 
Alas ! it is the foemen's spears ; 

They come to storm the wall. 
Shout ! watchman ! sound the loud alarm ; 
Ye men of Judah ! rise and arm ; 
Save, save from this impending harm ; 

Your foe with might appal. 


Whose life is pure, his hand is strong; 
But whoso deals in guilt and wrong 

Is cowardly and weak ; 
And whoso for the Lord would fight, 
Or e'er do battle for the right, 
And conquer all in heavenly might, 

Must holy be and meek. 


Whoso relies on God most High, 
And hears in peace the battle-cry, 
And calmly goes to fight or die, 

God's power alone doth seek. 
Now Judah's arm is weak indeed; 
Each heart is stricken like the reed 

When broken by the blast. 
Their gods, in whom they put their trust, 
Are trampled in the mire and dust, 
And God the True, the Good, the Just, 

Some call upon at last. 


But ah ! too late when Mercy's hour 
Is past : — when judgments, boding, lour, 
The sword of Justice doth devour 

Those who have sinned so long. 
Now shrieks of women fill the air, 
And men, in gloomy, dark despair, 
Nor fight nor offer up a prayer, 

But all together throng. 
The foe comes on, and now the wall 

Is stormed \ and one by one 
The outposts yield, till gained are all — 

The fortress now is gone ! 
The heathen each with other vied 

To spoil, destroy, and slay \ 


Like hungry wolves, unsatisfied, 
They tear and rend their prey. 


The cry of anguish and the prayer 
Which some raise high, in wild despair, 

Are answered by a yell. 
They come in desperate force along, 
Led by Sharezer, bold and strong, 
That motley, fierce, and warlike throng, 

Like angry fiends from hell. 
As mounts a fire in fury dread, 
When nought resists it overhead, 
They come, with brands all fiery red, 

Across the battered wall. 
And there those countless myriads fight 
The famished people till the night, 
And slaughter all in ruthless might, 

Nor hear they Pity's call. 
And now a fiercer, deadlier foe 
Despoils the city ; high and low 
The fire, in flames of angry glow, 

Spreads wide afar and near; 
And gentle women bruised and gashed, 
With brains of their own children splashed, 
Whom foemen 'gainst the stones had dashed, 

Stood by in hopeless fear. 



And Judah's king is captive led 
Amid the dying and the dead, 

A heathen monarch's prize. 
The dreaded king, he, trembling, sees, 
Who in fell anger stern, decrees : 

That he must lose his eyes 
And then be led to Babylon 

To suffer there for evil done 
Against the monarch's name. 
The temple court in ashes lies 
To God a chosen remnant cries, 

Tho' conquered and in shame. 
And God, who will no sinner clear, 
While e'er he lives in sin, will hear 
The cry of those, who, trembling, fear 

His holy, righteous Name. 
And while stern Justice wields the sword 
OF vengeance for her outraged Lord, 
Kind Mercy hears the faintest word 

That Penitence doth breathe, 
And opens wide the gates of Love 
For all who by repentance prove 

Sincere in thought and deed. 



Oh ! who has seen the light of even 
Gild earthly things with hues of heaven, 
Has seen the glorious orb of day 
Shed on the earth his parting ray, 
As he o'er lake, and lawn, and rose, 
A thousand beauties freely throws, 
And each, as it sped quickly past, 
Seemed brighter, lovelier than the last, 
And would not gladly soar away, 
With him, to realms of cloudless day, 
And live where suns might ever shed 
Their dazzling glory round his head? 


In this sweet hour, with beauties rife, 
Of golden heaven and sunlit sea, 
When man forgets the cares of life, 
And 'tis a pleasure but to be ! 


When sorrows in the hush of even 
Are borne with calm and holy peace, 
Or lose themselves 'mid joys of heaven, 
And for a time their conflicts cease ; 
A Jewish imid, by Babel's towers, 
Sat down to think of happier hours, 
Tho' captive on a foreign strand, — 
An outcast in the Gentiles' land, 
Where Israel's God was never known, 
And men bowed down to gods of stone. 


Alas ! the sin of Jewry now 

Has laid her pride and glory low, 

And for her people's punishment, 

God used as His dread instrument 

The heathen, on destruction bent, 

To lead His Israel far away, 

And leave their homes to slow decay. 

And here, alas ! doth Adah mourn 

For her dear land — distressed, forlorn. 

Not Belus' temple, nor the halls 

Of palaces, with gilded walls ; 

Nor towers kissed by floating clouds, 

Like giants wrapped in flaming shrouds, 

Could make her sad thoughts rest on them 

Her heart was in Jerusalem. 



Jerusalem ! more welcome far 
To Jewish eyes, than polar star 
To mariner on dusky sea, 
When billows toss tempestuously. 
And dearer, too, than desert springs, 
Which cheer the pilgrim's wanderings. 
While there the holy temple stands, 
The wonder of the heathen lands, 
Where dwelt the awful King of kings, 
In glory 'twixt cherubic wings, 
Where music swelled at morn and even, 
In concert with the choirs of heaven. 

Judaea's hills ! where prophets saw 

Before their eyes bright glories spread, 

In trembling, and with solemn awe, 

And they became like beings dead, 

The future's undiscovered womb — 

The vision bright of things to come ! 

Compared with their pure, heaven-taught light, 

The Gentile's knowledge was but night. 

And Jericho's sweet groves of palm, 

Of rose, and orange ; and the balm 

Of Gilead, given in tenderness 

By God, His suffering ones to bless, 


Yea, every scene and lovely spot, 
From cloud-capt hill to lowly grot 
The Jew loves all and every part. 
Where'er his lot on earth is cast 
There would he come, like stricken hart, 
To rest in death's calm sleep at last. 


Now Adah mourns her country's fall, 

And to her God in prayer doth call. 

Ah ! shall, she thought, the good, the brave, 

Inherit but a captive's grave ? 

Shall Zion's harps no more be strung? 

Shall all her songs be hushed in death ? 

Shall we no more with voice and tongue 

Bless Him who gave us life and breath ? 

Shall only prayerful sighs be given 

As offerings to the throne of heaven ? 

Shall naught possess our souls but fears, 

And waiting eyes be dimmed with tears ? 

Shall Israel's glory fade away, — 

Her Temple in the dust decay ? 


Foul war ! not only those who come 
To an untimely gory tomb 
Are victims to thy treacherous blade, 
But many thus are victims made 


By suffering, and bereavement prest, 

When thou dost rear thy crimson crest. 

Oh ! may thy devastating blast 

Be blown against thyself at last, 

And may thy fiercest, loudest call 

Be, when thy dogs* — thy bloodhounds all — 

Beneath their own destruction fall ! 

Haste, holy day ! when sin shall cease, 

And nations shall remain in peace, 

When round God's altar endless praise 

Shall man to Great Jehovah raise, 

And all be joy, and nevermore 

Shall nations learn the art of war. 


A harp of Judah, once so dear, 
Hung on a drooping willow nigh. 
Her eyes fell on it, while a tear 
Stole down her pale cheek silently. 
/Eolian strains came from its chords, 
Which spake to her far more than words. 
Her sad eye beamed, like yon bright star, 
Whose glory reached her from afar ■ 
She took the harp — her fingers swept 
Its chords — but ere she sang she wept, 
And then in measured cadence low 
To listening Heaven she told her woe. 

; Cry ' Havock,' and let slip the dogs of war." — Shakespeare 



Where now may Israel find a home ? 

Who shall the captive save ? 
Is no deliverer to come — 

No comfort but the grave ? 
O great Messiah ! Prince of peace, 
Come Thou, and bid our wanderings cease. 


Here by Euphrates' stream we sit, 

In lone captivity. 
We to Thy will, O God, submit, 

And look for help to Thee. 
Make bare Thine arm, Almighty Lord, 
Thy timely aid to us afford. 


" Come sing us one of Zion's songs," 

Our foes in scorn demand. 
Oh ! never by unwilling tongues 

In this the Gentiles' land. 
Our songs we must reserve for God, 
Tho' bowed beneath His chastening rod. 


Oh ! never, never shall we sing 
The song of happier time, 


Or tune our harp's sweet sounding string 

'Neath sun of foreign clime. 
But when our God deliverance brings, 
Then shall we praise the King of kings. 


Jerusalem ! we hope to see 

Thy God-lit glory yet ; 
In foreign lands to think of thee, 

The Jew shall ne'er forget ; 
To see thy joy, tho' desolate, 
We pray in hope, and watch and wait. 


Lord ! bring Thy children home again, 

The covenant land to see, 
Moriah's mount shall echo then 

With joyful praise to Thee ! 
Both day and night unceasing song 
To Thy great Name shall we prolong ! 


Her white hands touched the warbling strings, 
As moonbeams touch the mountain springs ; 
She ceased ; the music died away, 
As forest notes on summer day, 
When Evening's zephyrs whisper peace, 
When hushed is every sound of earth, 


And when the birds their woodnotes cease. 
And thoughts awake of heavenly birth. 


Her hands shall wake those strings no more, 

For she is cold and dead, 
And to a brighter, happier, shore 

Her spirit fair, has fled. 
There, in sweet songs, for aye to tell 
Her God of all she loved so well, 
And there to see in vision clear 
The mystery, wrapped in darkness here '. 



From Judah's land the power is riven, 
Which God of old to her had given, 
And Gentiles must, from age to age, — 
By head of gold, and silver breast, 
And thighs of brass, and iron feet, 
Revealed to Judah's holy sage, — 

In that great power seek rest, 
Until the ages are complete, 
When from the mountain, without hand 
The stone is cut that smites them all 
And from Judaea's holy land 
Messiah to His people calL 
Then shall they gather round His throne, 
And Him, whom they had pierced, shall own. 
Then shall they worship and adore, 
And serve with zeal unknown before, 
Him they had crucified of yore. 


Hark while yon herald cries with might- 
" It is the King's august command 
To you, O nations, at the sight 
Of my great image which doth stand 
In Babylon's triumphant land ; 
Whene'er you hear the sound of harp, 
Of cornet, flute, and sackbut clear, 
And psaltery and dulcimer, 
That all in reverence draw near 
And worship this the symbol great 
Of my dominion, or the sharp 
And furious flames beside yon gate 
Shall soon devour your hissing flesh 
Like fuel from the woods afresh." 

Prostrate the servile people fall 
To worship that dumb god of gold : 
The mean and noble, young and old, 
Upon the idol loudly call. 
Symbol of earthly might and power, 
To which mankind in every age, 
The young and old, the fool and sage, 
In courtly hall and hermitage, 
Bow down and worship every hour. 
But some, of truer, firmer trust 
In God, and all things pure and high, 
Will not fair reason's gift belie, 


And worship earthly power and lust. 
Both now, as then, they stand aloof, 
And will not God's great Name betray ; 
They look to Him, tho' far away : 
They own His right alone to sway 
The rod of empire and of might. 
To threat and menace, scorn and slight, 
In faith and patience, they are proof. 


An accusation foul is made 
Against three servants of the Lord 
Who disregard the monarch's word 
To bow the knee when serenade 
Is made to his great god of gold ! 
And these three youths so true and bold 
Are cast into the lake of fire ! 
Ah ! many a time ere then, I ween, 
And often since, may that be seen, 
When wicked men in fiendish ire 
Against God's servants' peace conspire, 
And trail their names in filth and mire, 

And damn them and demean. 
But all in vain, for God shall wake 
In their behalf, and vengeance take 
Upon the rebels, scattering wide 
Their foes and His ; and like the tide 
That dashes 'gainst the rock in rage, 

And spends itself in spray, 


He shall their devilish wrath assuage, 
And cast their bonds away. 


Lo ! four men, loose, walk thro' the fir* 

For their own God has come 

To controvert that judgment dire, 

And lead His children home. 

Safe in the fierce and raging heat 

Are they \ for God is there. 

To them it proves a calm retreat 

Like that we find in prayer. 

And thus, for ever, when distress 

Rends sore the weary heart, 

God, in His gracious tenderness, 

Comes down the weary one to bless, 

And heal affliction's smart. 

Or with His children He remains 

To soothe and lighten all their pains. 

And as to some in Babylon 

The idol was a snare, 

So Gentile kingdoms one by one 

Shall each its witness bear 

To selfish glory more than God, 

And worship idols vain, 

And strive to grasp and wield the rod 

Of empire oft again. 

And ever till the Christ shall come 

Shall Gentile glory be 


In Media, Persia, Greece, and Rome, 
A snare and mockery. 
And God's true Israel still looks on 
To Zion's hill from Babylon ! 


And now another plot is laid 
Against the man whom God doth love, 
But yet his prayer is duly made 
To Him who hears in heaven above. 
The counsel of these wicked men 
Prevails awhile, and he is cast 
Into the savage lions' den. 
Does evil triumph now at last ? 
Ah no ! tho' Virtue feeble seem, 
And for a time be trampled down, 
Hope sees afar deliverance gleam ; 
And tho' the wicked rage and frown, 
She knows Jehovah will redeem 

His people, and with glory crown. 
The lions' mouths are stopped for him. 

Safe comes he home again, 
But they whose cup is to the brim 
Filled up, are cast to lions grim, 
And they are torn limb from limb, 
These evil and profane. 


Belshazzar's feast is long and loud, 
Without a shade of gloom, 


But see ! before the awestruck crowd, 
A hand, as from a glory-cloud, 
Or from a long-forgotten shroud, 

Appears and writes his doom ! 
His boasted valour all is fled, 

Awake his guilty fears. 
His face, erewhile besotted, red, 
Is pale as one already dead, 
His heart is filled with gloomy dread, 

His eyes can weep no tears. 
God's servant comes, and tells him all — 

When wise Chaldeans failed — 
The secret writing on the wall, 
Which king and courtiers appal, 

Before which all had quailed, 
Is God's decree against his sin : 
" Mene, Tekel, Upharsin." — 

Each, loud his lot bewailed ! 


Thus every power on earth shall fail, 

And crumble in the dust \ 
Tho' rebels 'gainst Jehovah rail, 
And suffering millions hourly wail, 
And force and wrong at times prevail, 

Yet fall they shall, and must. 
When Christ shall take His power and reign 

O'er all the earth in peace, 
Then slaves shall be free men again, 
And warfare dread, and woe, and pain 


On all the earth shall cease. 
Who does not long that time to see, 
And will not labour man to free 
From all his sin and misery ? 
Come, Lord ! and man release ! 


As to the Jews in Babylon 

Deliverance was sent, 
When Persia led her armies on, 
Thus foes within, and foes anon, 

Who seemed on murder bent ! 
So differing forces shall combine 

Against the Church of God, 
And seek her faith to undermine 
And desecrate each holy shrine, 
Then Jesus, in His power divine, 

Shall with His iron rod 
Scatter in foul and fell disgrace 
Her foes and His before His face. 

Before another Prophet's eye, 

By Chebar's lonely stream 
Are spread bright visions from on high, 
Of what doth far off seem, — 
A valley of dead bones and dry, 
A river rolling grandly by, 
To people and to fructify 

The future church, I deem. 


But ere those bones shall live again, 

Or ere that stream on earth we see, 

God's Church, thro 5 anguish, toil, and pain, 

Must travail in captivity. 

Her harp is on the willows hung, 

And she awaits her King. 
But soon that harp shall be restrung, 
And then with rapturous voice and tongue, 
Sweet music, the bright chords among, 

Shall sound agrain and rinsr ! 



Judaea's captive sons, rejoice ! 

Your mourning now may cease at last ; 

The Lord sends forth His glorious voice 

Like music on the rolling blast, 

To call His people from afar, 

And end the bitter strife and war. 

Let joyful songs of praise arise, 

And bring the wonted sacrifice 

To smoke upon His altar, where 

He loves to hear the voice of prayer. 

Once more into His temple bring, 

With joy, the free-will offering. 

Your land He comes again to bless, 

And crown your fields with fruitfulness. 


Rejoice, Judaea ! God shall come 
To reign once more in every home ; 

7 HE RETURN. 35 

Sweet Peace shall brood upon thy mountains, 
And Life shall flow from out thy fountains ; 
Fair Truth from earth shall then be given, 
And Righteousness look down from heaven.* 
Rejoice, O widowed queen, rejoice ! 
And shout for joy ! for thou art free ; 
Hear once again thy children's voice 
In sounds of praise and melody. 
Salathiel's son the hosts leads on 
In holy joy from Babylon. 


Oh ! who can tell the joys that shed, 
In holy gladness, heavenly peace, 
Their light upon a captive's head, 
When from his chains he finds release, 
And to his weary soul is given 
A foretaste of the joys of heaven ? 

No spot so bright as childhood's home 

Could he behold, when forced to roam 

From his dear native land away, 

And leave that home to slow decay. 

Now he again, with tearful eyes, 

Sees Zion's hill before him rise, 

And prostrate on the turf he lies. 

His mind looks onward through all time, 

* See Ps. lxxii. 3 ; Zech. xiii. I ; and Ps. Ixxxv. II. 


His soul is filled with joy unpriced, 

As he beholds from every clime 

The nations come to worship Christ. 

And fair before him visions rise 

Of scenes when, wedded to the skies, 

Zion shall rule, and nevermore 

In her be heard the clang of war : 

When to Messiah shall be given 

The homage, both of earth and heaven ! 


On God the thankful people call, 
And praise Him for His mercies great ; 
They raise the altar, build the wall, 
Restore the breach, set up the gate ; 
At eventide they kneel and pray, 
And grateful anthems crown the day. 
The Priests each day with joy prolong 
The prayer and chant and sacred song, 
To music echoing to the skies,* 
God's holy temple's turrets rise ! 
At Morn and Eve the voice of prayer 
Floats upward thro' the hallowed air ; 
From east and west the people come, 
To dwell in Salem's happy home. 

* See Ezra iii. io, II. 

7 II E RETURN. 37 


Freedom ! to Virtue, sister fair, 
With brow serene and queenly air 
Wert thou, amid the holy train, 
Sent down from heaven on earth to reign, 
When Eden bright was man's abode — 
When converse high, he held with God. 
Beneath thy sceptre's peaceful sway 
The captive's galling chains give way. 
Wisdom and Love surround thy throne \ 
Religion's claims" are thine alone. 
Come thou to reign on Zion's hill — 
And all her hopes of joy fulfil. 
O lovely Salem ! bright abode 
Of priest and prophet : — Rest of God,* 
Thy living page shall rule the world 
When error from her throne is hurled ! 


Like ministering angels' wings outspread 
Around the fane of Judah's God, 
Immortal hopes surround thy head, 
O Zion, bowed beneath the rod 
Of Him who loves thee, and will save 
Thy fame and glory from the grave. 

* Cf. Ps. cxxxii. 14. 


To thee shall empire vast be given, 

When Christ, thy King, comes down from heaven. 

Rejoice, O Salem ! wars shall cease 

Throughout the world, in that bright day 

When thy Messiah reigns in peace, 

When all shall own His righteous sway. 

His empire wide as earth shall be, 

From clime to clime, from sea to sea ; 

And with Him shall come down from heaven 

The saints for whom His life was given. 

The lamb and lion, side by side, 

Shall rest in peace ; deceit and pride 

Shall flee to their unblest abode 

Of darkness, from the face of God. 

From cot and palace then shall rise 

The loving heart's best sacrifice, 

In praise and prayer to peaceful skies. 


When Christ comes down from heaven above, 
To reign o'er all as Prince of peace, 
When dawns on earth that day of love, 
Peace like a river shall increase ; 
Men shall unite to work all good, 
And universal brotherhood 
Shall be the bond to make them one, 
And link them to Messiah's throne. 


Then shall the promised Branch arise 

In beauty bright and fair, 
And with its glory fill the skies 

And earth and sea and air ! 
The stone, cut from the mountain forth, 

Shall smite earth's kingdoms down, 
And fill the east, west, south, and north, 

And earth with glory crown ! 
The wilderness shall bloom ; and Spring 

Shall all the year on earth remain ; 
The desert shall rejoice and sing, 

Nor age nor childhood suffer pain. 
Jesus shall reign o'er all the world, 

In sweet constraining love ; 
Sin from its throne shall then be hurled ; 

Peace, like a brooding dove, 
Shall rest in every heart and home, 

For men shall dwell in peace ; 
From paths of peace no man shall roam, 

And war and strife shall cease ! 
The world shall then unite to sing 
The praises of our heavenly King. 
From Andes' mount, and Labrador ; 
From where Niagara's thunders roar ; 
From Egypt and from Cush, shall come 
The worshippers ; from erring Rome, 
From Britain's Isle, and every shore, 
To Zion shall the people pour. 


From whence, like circles widening round 
On ocean's face, the healing sound 
Of Jesu's Name shall blessings shed 
On every land ; on every head ! 


Mortal, when thou hearest 

Sweet sounds of mirth, 
Ah then art thou nearest 

To sorrows of earth. 
Take timely this warning, 

Make ready thy heart 
In sorrow and mourning 

To bear its part. 

For things which thou lovest 

Will fade and decay, 
And friends whom thou provest 

Will all pass away. 
The gift, which by Heaven, 

Was sent thee to cheer, 
Will vanish at Even 

And leave thee in fear. 

42 WAIT. 

Some friends will forget thee, 

And foes will frown ; 
Ills then shall beset thee, 

To crush thee down. 
To wait is thy duty ; 

The darkness will fly, 
And calm light with beauty 

Shall brighten the sky. 

With heart nigh to breaking 

Rest thou in the Lord, 
To weary hearts, aching, 

He aid will afford. 
What doubt is now glooming 

In mystery's shroud, 
His love is illuming 

Beyond the cloud. 

The shadows that hover 

Regard not : be strong ; 
These clouds will pass over, 

And light ere long 
With sunshine and gladness 

O'er thee will shine, 
And sighing and sadness 

No more be thine. 

WAIT. 43 

Whatever betide thee, 

Still wait on the Lord ; 
Seek Him, He will guide thee, 

And succour afford ; 
Tho' dangers press round thee 

While sojourning here, 
His angels surround thee ; 

No foe can draw near ! 


As Evening's calm and sombre shadows cast 
A gloom of pensive sadness o'er the spirit, 
So to my soul the shadows of the past 
Recall those thoughts which sorrow doth inherit. 

They tell of scenes without or pain or joy, 

Of youth's bright hopes bowed low by grief and sadness, 

Of pleasures marred, alas ! by foul alloy, 

Of scenes in which I saw nor smile nor gladness. 

They tell of days of toil and nights of woe, 
When my lone spirit was oppressed and weary, 
When oft I knew not where for joy to go — 
This cold, hard world was all so sad and dreary. 

Within the silent grave, in days long past, 

Were laid dear friends, whom Death from me did sever ; 

But memory doth a halo round them cast, 

Which will shine bright for ever and for ever ! 

The friends of youth and home from me are gone, — 
To other climes and friends their love is given ; 
To-night, the moon shines o'er the storied stone 
Of other friends beloved, who are in heaven. 


The holy infant sleeps with folded palms, 
Beneath the sod he waits a brighter morrow ; 
His gentle voice was sweet as angels' psalms, 
His smile of love refreshed my soul in sorrow. 

The soldier-friend in war's dread havoc died ; 
Far from his home and kindred dust he sleepeth ; 
The scabbard, sabreless, is by his side, 
The bivouac at night no more he keepeth. 

The surging billows moan the ship above, 
Round which my hopes, and wishes fond, did hover; 
And many brave and noble hearts I love 
The waves of ocean wild alone shall cover ! 

Ah ! many a chair is empty this lone night, 
In many a household nook and fireside ingle ; 
And those who once sat there to cheer our sight 
Shall never come again, with us to mingle. 

Like as a storm, in Autumn's darkest night, 
Tears from the oak the greenest leaves and searest, 
So has strong Death removed from my sight 
My best beloved ; — the noblest and the dearest. 

And by the graves of many, dead and gone, 
I stand alone, by sorrow rudely shaken ; 
I see the shadows fading one by one, 
As some old friend away from me is taken. 


Alas ! no voice is ever heard to sound 
From out those graves ; no sign, or word, or token, 
Is sent to me from that dread world profound, 
Whose silence yet, hath no man ever broken. 

But soon the Morning of this night shall break 
In one bright flood of golden light and glory ; 
The shadows shall disperse ; then I shall take 
My treasures from the grave, so dark and hoary ! 

Father ! my hope is fixed alone in Thee ; 
Let me receive whate'er in love is given ; 
And when Thou takest aught, give faith to see 
That I shall meet with all I love in heaven. 



,l 'OXiyrj £e KfirrSfieaOa 

K6mq, barkbjv XvOtvrwv." 

An AC 

How calmly sleep the dead ! Their night has come, 

The long, long night of death when none can work. 

Oh ! let this truth sink down into my soul : 

For earthly things shall perish soon, and fade 

Like Dead Sea fruit, which looks so bright and fair, 

But on the lips to acrid ashes turns \ 

W^hile holy works, done for the Lord, endure, 

And scatter sweetest fragrance evermore. 

How dear to meditate at Evening time 

Where our beloved ones sleep ! The calm blue light 

Doth rest upon the high majestic hills, 

And silence reigns supreme thro' all the vale ; 

The zephyrs sweet are fanned by angel wings, 

And silver brooks are singing songs of peace. 

This is the hour when meditation calm 

Holds high communion with the blessed dead. 

And here mine sleep ; how solemn is the place ! 


Here rests the man of threescore years and ten, 

Whose silver locks and gentle voice we loved. 

The lips of homeless orphans blessed his name, 

And widows spake, with gratitude, his praise. 

His spirit lives with God : with joy divine 

He quaffs the cup of immortality ! 

From far-off halls in heavenly light serene, 

AVhere ne'er is seen the shadow of a cloud, 

He looks upon the grave where rests his dust ; 

Perchance he smiles on me : a spirit's smile is bliss ! 

And here, too, lies my youth's sincerest friend, 

Who fell beside me in the march of life, 

And went to find a home in brighter worlds : 

Calm be thy rest, sweet soul ! thou sleep'st in peace, 

But may thy spirit hover round me now. 

And here is laid the bright-haired child I loved, 

Whose sweet blue eyes shed light into my heart ; 

Her brow was fair as snow on sunlit hills, 

Her golden hair was bright as sungilt clouds ; 

Her dulcet song oft cheered my weary soul, 

And filled my heart with longings after God ! 

Ye ministers of highest heaven, behold, 

And watch her sleeping dust, which I would fain 

Securely guard from every ill ; like her 

Who in sweet water drank the dust of death. 

And here the infant rests, secure from woe, 

A bud, ere blown, transplanted into heaven. 

More peaceful far than Summer's calmest Eve 

Is the repose of childhood's face in death ! 


And thou, the dearest of our earthly friends, 

My sister sweet ! alas, art sleeping here. 

Ah ! woe is me, that I am left alone, 

Without thy love to cheer me on my way ! 

Say, do bright spirits from the spirit-world 

Watch over and bring succour unto us, 

Whom they have loved and left ? Do they look 

And watch us here while we remember them ? 
Within our hearts enshrined thy memory dear 
Shall dwell apart, as Evening's only star, 
Until, with us, it sinks in death's dark night, 
And wakens once again at Morning's dawn 
Into the holy light of heavenly day ! 
Ah me ! ah me ! so many friends are gone, 
And I am left awhile to linger here. 
Oh, if they still were with me, I would pour 
My wealth of love into each loving heart, 
And make them glad with love the livelong day ! 
But many friends remain, whom I may love, 
And thus fill up what still is left, for Christ, 
Who, tho' He clothes Himself with living light, 
Did once on earth put on our mortal flesh, 
And slept in death, within the silent grave, 
And rose again, that He might make the tomb 
A highway to the gates of Zion's hill. 
And here the epitaph I read of one 
Who in his day was wise and good and great, 
But not recorded on this stone, his fame, — 



That is engraven in the people's hearts. 
And still he lives in many a noble life, 
Made true by following closely in his steps. 
Oh, let his tomb be honoured ! Let the feet 
Of pilgrims be directed where he lies, 
That all may learn to honour him in death, 
And from his grave go forth to live like him. 
Beside him lies the wretch who made earth sad 
By his foul deeds and cankering selfishness : 
His memory rots ; forgotten be his name. 
Here lies a weary heart before its time, 
Whom want of love and sympathy laid low. 
Ah ! cruel be the pangs that rend the hearts 
Of those who fill life's bitter cup with woe 
For one of God's dear children, — single-eyed. 
The simple cross o'er yonder grave doth tell 
Of victory thro' Him who conquered death, 
And opened wide the gates of life to all 
Who follow Him from self, thro' pain, to heaven. 
How vain the list of titles, and the pomp 
Of heraldry and adulation loud 
On yonder tomb ! Know that the dead at last 
Shall stand without a title save that one 
Which God's own Spirit gives to him alone 
Who serves the Lord in faith — A son of God. 
Now from this place my thoughts take wing, and I 
Remember myriads more who sleep in death ; 
Yea, all the earth is one great burial place, 
And in her bosom large her children rest. 


Among the hills the lonely peasant sleeps, 

And thousands, crowded, sleep in city graves. 

In shrouds of burning sand on desert plains, 

In shrouds of snow on many a distant Alp, 

In fields where war's dread havoc laid men low, 

And in the trackless forest's dim recess 

Men sleep, and wait the resurrection morn ; 

Beneath the ocean's pathless waters too, 

Yea, every spot of all the earth is full 

Of those who lived upon its bosom once ; 

And thus, as one great sepulchre, it swings 

Around the sun, until a brighter Sun 

Shall shine upon it, and His voice call forth 

The thronging millions from their sleep of death ! 

How different the beings are who sleep 

Within those graves ! Some are the saints of God 

Who wait with hope the resurrection morn, — 

And some endure the punishment of sin. 

The hero, red from gDry battle-field ; 

The babbler, who once talked of teaching God 

To frame His universe ; the bold bad man, 

Who railed at God and scoffed at Christ and Paul 

The genius, who did prostitute his gifts 

To sinful ends ; the miser, who, for gold, 

Sold peace of mind and hope of life to come ; 

The saint, who, like his Master, went about 

Doing his neighbour good \ the holy child, 

Who, like a snowflake, came to earth and died : 


And patriarch and prophet and apostle, 
And preacher of the gospel, all are there ; 
Yea, some of every station, clime, and creed, 
Are numbered with the dead, and sleep in death. 
And full as is the earth of those who died, 
Yet there is room for all who live ; and soon 
Shall each repose within his narrow bed. 
O God 1 my Father, Saviour, Sanctifier, 
Prepare my soul for that most solemn hour 
When I shall lay me down to sleep in death, 
And let me rest in hope, that I shall wake 
To life, in Thy dear likeness, — satisfied ! 


They sleep alone, 

No stoned stone 
Tells of their birth or name : 

And the weary blast 

Of the night sweeps past, 
And bewails their death in sad, sad moan, 
The sons who are lost to fame. 

O'er the unknown dead 

In their silent bed 
All night doth Nature weep, 

O'er the lonely grave 

Of the good and brave 
Her cold, cold tears she ever doth shed, 
And her silent watch doth keep. 

The starlit skies 

With sleepless eyes 
Behold each grassy mound ; 

And the night bird moans, 

And the yew tree groans, 
And the bat in silence o'er them flies 
Past that cold and dismal ground. 


Come, Christian, here, 

And the silent tear, 
For those departed shed ; 

And list to the song 

Of the glorious throng 
Of those who are past each doubt and fear, 
The holy ones — the blessed dead. 

Ah ! say, is there given 

The power in heaven, 
To those who have failed in life, 

To do great things 

For the King of kings, 
Which here, tho' hard they had striven, 
They failed in, thro' fear and strife ? 

ol dec oj/tc9. 

How oft on Memory's golden wings 
Will past hours hover round us ! 

And then we joy in holy things, 
For friends in bliss surround us. 

Our loved and lost come back again 

To soothe our souls in pain, 

And prompt within us thoughts divine, 

Which make our actions fine J 

And these are moments dear as gold, 
Recalling friends departed, 

Who share the joy of bliss untold, 
By God to them imparted. 

We cannot here recount the joy, 

Nor tell the blest employ, 

Experienced by the saints in light 

In holy, sweet delight ! 

In that bright land beyond the tomb 
All pain for ever ceases ; 


And there for ages yet to come 
The saints' delight increases. 
For Jesus is their joy and crown : 
He brought salvation down 
From heaven, where first its streams began, 
And there it blesses man. 

We oft with them took counsel sweet, 
Each heart its own love feeling, 

As low we bowed at Jesu's feet, 
In God's bright presence kneeling. 

With them we hold communion still, 

For they on Zion's hill, 

And we are one — their toil is o'er — 

They think on days of yore. 

Blest were the hours so calmly spent, 
And fond remembrance ever 

Recalls those friends in mercy lent, 
Whom nought from us can sever ! 

Communion with the saints in bliss, — 

And with the Godhead is 

The sweetest, holiest rapture given 

To any short of heaven ! 

Their memory's blest ! they hover near, 
Like light when Day is departed, 

We love them still, — so good, — so dear, — 
So true, — so noble-hearted ! 


And soon, before the Saviour's face, 

Within God's holy place, 
Shall we rejoice with those we love, 

In peace and joy above. 

They, like sweet flowers, to kindlier soil 
By death have been transplanted ; 

And we but wait a little while, 
Till our release is granted. 

And now we long their bliss to share, 

With Christ in heaven, for there 

The Lord of Life doth blessings shed 

On every sainted head. 

They sing of love in yonder sphere, 
Which song, when first beginning, 

They sang in broken accents here, 
Because of pain and sinning. 

But now, the notes of that sweet song, 

Unceasing they prolong, 

In rapture sweet, and calm delight, 

And rest not day nor night. 

Oh ! for wings to mount the skies, 

And enter yon bright portals 
Of that blest home, where never dies 

One child of its Immortals ! 
There youth's bright sun shall ne'er go down, 
Eternal life shall crown 


The sainted head of sire and son, 
When life on earth is done. 

The memory of the just shall be 

For ever blest and holy, 
No matter of whate'er degree, 

Or young, or great, or lowly. 
And oft, when Daylight's glare is gone, 
And Evening hours come on, 
Shall we recall sweet moments fled, — 
Spent with the holy dead. 

W. C. 


My years, alas ! have sadly sped 

Since thou — so loved, so dear — 
Wast numbered with the blessed dead, 

And buried here. 
I come, thy well-known grave to see, 
And here to think alone of thee. 
Calm be the moments which I spend : 
To me, kind Heaven, Thy comfort lend. 

A solemn awe comes o'er me now, 

As by thy grave I stand, 
And think how glory crowns thy brow 

In that blest land, 
Where leaves for healing ever grow, 
And all their sweetness thou dost know ;- 
Where, from the Life of life, is shed 
Eternal youth on every head. 

As dies a rose in brightest bloom 
When storms sweep rudely by, 


So death has snatched thee to the tomb \ — 

But safe on high 
Thou art, where storms are felt no more ; — 
On Zion's hill, on Canaan's shore \ 
There in the light of God to stand, 
In radiance of that sunless land. 

Thy harp of pure and lucid gold 

Resounds in rapturous tone, 
When thou dost sweep its trembling chords 

To praise alone 
The Christ who died to set thee free, — 
The Lord, the Lamb of Calvary ! 
And, as thine eyes behold heaven's King, 
His praise with angels thou dost sing. 

Calm as the silver starlight looks 

On plains of dazzling snow, 
And pure as ice on limpid brooks, 

Thy pleasures now \ 
For God has wiped away thy tears, 
And calmed thy sorrows and thy fears, — 
Now thou art near the glassy sea, 
Life's crystal stream flows bright for thee. 

May I through grace yet follow thee 
To yon bright world above, 


Where I my Saviour's face shall see, 

Him praise and love, 
With those who walk, arrayed in white, 
Thro' all the glowing worlds of light, 
And holy songs in rapture sing 
For ever to my Saviour King. 

Jesu ! while here on earth I stay 
Be Thou my King and Friend, 
And wheresoe'er my footsteps stray, 

My walks attend : 
O guide me with Thy counsel here, 
In hours of wild despair be near ; 
i\nd, at the last, may life's rude storms 
But land me safely in Thine arms. 


When the night is calm and cloudless, stars of brightest 

glory shine ; 
When the heart is pure and holy, dwells within us light 


And, as shine the stars in heaven, when dark clouds 

come not between, 
So to holy, trusting Sorrow, saints in light are clearly 


Sweet the memory which we cherish of the holy, happy 

Who in spirit still surround us, and their blessings o'er 

us shed ! 

Weary, sad, and lonely mourners, who deplore their 

absence now, 
Hear from far their songs of gladness, as before God's 

throne they bow. 

And the soul bowed down with anguish sees thro' tears 

the better land, 
Holds communion with bright spirits, who before the 

Saviour stand. 

HADES. 63 

Where are heard the martyrs' voices mingling with the 

holy song, 
As they cry beneath the altar, " O how long, O Lord, 

how long ? " 

And we pray, " Lord God Almighty, let Thy glorious 

kingdom come," 
Then shall we, with all the faithful, enter our eternal 


Then shall Christ, the great Immanuel, take unto Him 

power and reign, 
And unlock the gates of Hades, where the spirits now 


There departed souls are gathered to the fathers of our 

And all faithful saints, rejoicing, see their Saviour face to 


And alas ! the souls of sinners, separated, there abide ; 
Now they know the woe and sorrow which to sin must 
aye betide. 

Is there hope that in the darkness light may dawn on 

them at last ? 
Shall they find that sin's foul burden may while there 

aside be cast ? 

64 HADES. 

Will the punishment and anguish suffered there 'mid 

woe's loud din, 
Make them shun the path rebellious, — the dark and 

gloomy path of sin ? 

Conscious of their joy and glory, peaceful rest the holy 

saints ; 
Conscious of their separation, sinners make their sad 


Those, now freed from sin and anguish, soon shall enter 

their bright home ; 
These, in wretched woe lamenting, wait for judgment yet 

to come. 

Those, as kings and priests, with Jesus soon shall reign 

o'er all the earth ; 
These, remorseful and tormented, curse the hour that 

gave them birth. 

Those, thro' tears of sad bereavement, we behold in 

peace above ; 
These, in anguish and desertion, feel not aught of Jesu's 


Those have eyes to see the future, and behold the love 

of God ; 
These endure, in woe and darkness, direful scourging of 

His rod. 

HADES. 65 

Those have eyes for retrospection, and God's love to 

them adore ; 
These look back and see the shipwrecks which bestrew 

life's distant shore. 

Those have eyes for introspection, and thrice Holy ever 

These, their sinful hearts beholding, feel remorse with 

maddening sting. 

In the worship always given to the Lamb upon the 

Join the sons of all creation, save the guilty lost 


In God's Paradise are waiting all who served the Lord 

while here, 
All their travail now is ended, wiped away is every tear. 

Near to Israel's faithful father all the faithful children 

And by God, the Lord of Mercy, for their faith are 

truly blest. 

Christ, in glory, high and holy, sitteth now at God's 

right hand, 
"Far above all heavens" pleading, saints around the 

altar stand. 

66 HADES. 

Not the fulness of their glory do they yet possess above, 
They are waiting till God's people all shall taste re- 
deeming love. 

Waiting till, again united, soul and body both shall stand, 
Bright and glorious, in the radiance of that holy, sunless 

Where, for His redeemed, bright mansions doth the 

Saviour now prepare, 
Soon His righteous word of judgment shall decide who 

enters there. 

First shall death restore the body, which the grave in 

darkness hides, 
Hades shall yield up the spirit which in it awhile abides. 

Then the universal Easter of all men shall once be seen. 
God's archangel's awful trumpet shall to judgment all 

All men then shall stand before Thee, blessed Saviour, 

Judge and King ! 
Some shall sweetest words of welcome unto higher 

honours bring ; 

Some shall words of condemnation unto darkness dread 

Jesu ! save me from such terrors, to Thy love my 

heart incline. 

HADES. 67 

Open wide ye gates eternal ! white-robed saints shall 
enter in, 

Jesus, our Almighty Saviour, vanquished Death and con- 
quered sin ! 

In eternal mansions holy, fulness of His joy shall rest 
On the souls who enter with Him that bright land where 
all are blest. 

Lord, Creator ! guide our footsteps in the path of duty 

That hereafter crowns of glory may encircle every brow. 

Jesu, merciful Redeemer ! cleanse our souls from sin 

and shame, 
Make us Thy disciples wholly, write on us Thy Saving 


Holy Spirit, Sanctifier ! dwell within our hearts in love, 

Make us meet, while here, to enter yonder home in 

heaven above. 



In the future earth and heaven 
We shall live where peace is given 
Unto all who, faithful ever, Christ's reproach in thij 
world bore. 

Where the Morning ever shineth, 
And the daylight ne'er declineth, 
Where shall stand for ever open, all the day the holy door: 
Zion's gate all bright and glorious : Zion's dazzling, pearly 
door — 


Where the cry of woe and sadness 

Ne'er is heard amid the gladness 

Of the many thousands gathered unto that bright happy 


And where death no more can seize us ; 

But beneath the smile of Jesus, 

Calm, secure, and safe for ever, we shall think on days of 

yore — 

Days of sorrow and temptation, when our hearts were 

sad and sore — 



Where, redeemed from every nation, 
Men bow down in adoration, 
And their glad, unceasing praises in loud Alleluias pour 
Unto Christ the King of heaven, 
Praise by every saint is given. 
There, secure, there, safely gathered, thence we shall go 

out no more. 
All our toil and sorrow over on that blissful happy shore 


Where the Living creatures holy, 
And the Elders bowing lowly, 
Cast their crowns upon the crystal as they fall God's 
throne before, 

Crying, " Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! " 
To the Lord the King Almighty, 
Who has made us, and redeemed us, by His cross and 

passion sore, 
Of our sins on Golgotha, He in love the burden bore. 


Where the presence of our Saviour, 
In His gracious, loving favour, 
Is vouchsafed to all His loved ones, who His absence 
here deplore. 

Earth, to them, is dark and dreary, 
Here His saints are sad and weary : 


Oh ! the joy and bliss and glory there to see whom here- 
Tho' they loved, they ne'er beheld Him : there to pray 

His feet before 


Where the tree of life doth flourish, 
And its fruit the nations nourish ; 
And where burning thirst or hunger never can assail us 

For the Lord Himself shall feed us, 
And to living fountains lead us : 
Where the sparkling waters freely bounding on for ever- 
Into Life's calm, stately river all their living waters pour 


Where the saints in peace inherit, 

From the comfort-giving Spirit, 

joys divine ; and where their songs, they sing in joy for 


Where they tell redemption's story, 

And to Christ the King of Glory, 

Sweetest songs of praises sing they, as they lovingly 


Jesus Christ, in holiest rapture, never felt so dear 




Where the martyr's blood-stained streamer 
Floats in sight of his Redeemer, 
Now before the feet of Jesus, rests he calm, — life's sorrows 
o'er ; 

Near Him who died on Calvary's mountain, 
From whose side flowed forth the fountain, 
Where Faith's sons are cleansed; and Jesus God's lost 

image doth restore : 
Unto all who love and serve Him, life and light He doth 


Where departed friends shall meet us, 
And with words of love shall greet us, 
While with them our Father's Kingdom we eternally 

Filled with awe and holy wonder, 
We o'er each bright scene shall ponder, 
Far from sin's distracting noises : far from this world's 

deafening roar, 
Calmly there for ever rest we, on that tranquil, happy 


Where in robes of spotless whiteness, 
And Life's crowns of dazzling brightness, 
We shall walk in peace for ever, and to Jesus Christ 


Our glad songs of joy unceasing, 

Which, for evermore increasing, 

In full swell, till all the blessed grace and strength from 

God implore ; 

Grace and strength to sing for ever, from their God they 

all implore 


Where the floods of light for ever 

Flow like an unceasing river, 
From our God upon His throne, whence rays of glory 
ever pour 

Down upon the thousands holy, 

Bowed before His feet so lowly ; 

Where in prostrate adoration they for ever Him adore. 

God the Father, Son, and Spirit, throned in light they all 

adore — 



A calm sweet voice, in accents low, 
Said unto me : " Thou must forego 
All earthly pride, true good to know." 

Within my soul a tempest woke, 

A strife of tongues the silence broke, 

As each proud lust his passion spoke. 

And then, in subtler argument, 
With scorn and indignation blent, 
Each to mine ear his message sent. 

To each, the gentle voice replied 
In words both calm and dignified, 
Which made them all in turn subside. 

" The pride of Birth and Rank," said one, 
11 Is only self-respect." When done, 
The voice said : " Christ was Mary's Son." 

The pride of Wealth his glory spread. 

The gentle voice so calmly said : 

" He had not where to lay His Head." 

74 PRIDE. 

The pride of Place, with haughty mien, 
Spake loud his claim. The voice between : 
" He shall be called a Nazarene." 

The pride of Beauty said no less 

Than, " I am fair." The voice did press : 

' ; He hath no form nor comeliness." 

Now Reputation sought his end 

By aiming high. The voice did send 

Me unto Christ the poor man's Friend. 

Proud Independence reared his head, 
To stoop to none. The sweet voice said : 
" He oft accepted daily bread." 

And Learning came, with thoughtful brow. 

Of Him he said of old as now, 

" Hath this man letters ! where and how ? " 

Ambition's fierce, commanding eye 

Read in the page of prophecy : 

" By serving, He was raised on high." 

Success, my heart had moved again, 

But His sad lot renewed my pain : 

" He was despised and scorned of men." 

PRIDE. 75 

Proud Self-reliance help had spurned, 
But He Whom all good-will has earned 
In Nazareth obedience learned. 

Ability — vouchsafed to few — 
Upon my pride in silence grew. 
He said : " By self I nothing do." 

My Will was strong and bold, until 
I learned of Him Who doth fulfil 
All good : " I do My Father's will." 

Proud Intellect did great things seek. 
The voice replied in accents meek : 
" My Father taught Me ; so I speak." 

And Bigotry all love forgot, 

And would a name from helping blot. 

The voice replied : " Forbid him not.*' 

Resentment back the blow would give, 

And punish sore without reprieve. 

He prayed for foes that they might live. 

Reserve would wrap his cloak around, 
And walk alone on holy ground, 
But He in others comfort found. 

76 PRIDE. 

Self-righteousness with garments clean, 
With sinners would not e'er be seen. 
He did not spurn the Magdalene. 

O Jesu ! help me pride to shun, 

And walk with Thee, Thou Blessed One, 

Until this sinful life be done. 

And after death, O let me be 
Where I Thy Holy Face shall see, 
And there grow ever liker Thee. 



Father and mother ! Ah, both were gone 
Unto God's bright home in heaven, 

Their orphans are left in the world alone 
On the waves of life's ocean driven. 

At the close of a cold, bleak winter's day 

In the bitter frosty weather, 
They went to see where their parents lay 

In the sleep of death together. 

The light shone out from the rich man's home, 
Where the warm bright lamps were burning, 

Alas ! they must go and in sorrow roam 
To the graves of their loved ones turning. 

And thoughts came over each weary heart, 

Like dark clouds over a river. 
They wept aloud, for they now must part, 

From the graves they loved, for ever ! 


In yonder home so warm and bright 
They heard children's voices singing. 

The Christ-child came on that holy night, 
And the bells were loudly ringing. 

The Christmas tree in that lordly hall 
Awaited to bless the morrow. 

The eldest child to God doth call : 
" Let them never know our sorrow." 

A wandering star shot thro' the sky, 
And seemed to the deep blue given. 

She said while her eyes were raised on high, 
" A soul has entered heaven ! " 

And now on her mother's grave she lies, 
Forsaken, unknown to pity ; 

Not any one heard her mournful cries, 
In yonder sinful city. 

A holy light shone around them there, 
As quick their hearts were beating, 

While angel songs filled all the air, 
And they heard a voice repeating : 


" Children of poverty ; now behold 
And shout and sing for gladness : 

We bring to each a crown of gold, 
We come to end your sadness. 

From the Lord of life, a garment white 

Unto each of you is given, 
And a palm to wave ; you have won the fight : 

To-night you shall enter heaven." 

Soon all was still and calm again ; 

The orphans bowed down lowly, 
And tho' they suffered cold and pain, 

They blessed the vision holy. 

" Sister," the little one gently said, 
" I am cold and sad and weary ; 

Will you be sorry when I am dead ? 
Will life be then more dreary ? " 

Close in her arms she gently laid 

Her little baby sister, 
And wrapped her in her own thin plaid, 

As tenderly she kissed her. 


Near to her heart she gently lay, 

And fell asleep from sorrow : 
She now enjoys a happier day, 

In heaven's bright to-morrow. 

The snow fell fast, and the orphan wept, 
Her weary heart seemed breaking — 

At the grave where all so calmly slept, 
Now she alone was waking. 

" Mother ! " she cried, " O come and take 
Your child from sorrows riven." 

She fell asleep ; and now is awake, 
In the calm, sweet bliss of heaven. 


Go where the little children are lisping Jesus' Name, 
And tell them how the Saviour for their redemption came. 

Go where the needy famish for lack of heavenly bread, 
And tell them how the faithful by Jesus Christ are fed. 

Go where the helpless orphans are pining, sore distrest, 
Oh succour them and lead them to Jesus' loving breast. 

Go where sin's wounded captives lie down in dumb 

And speak a word of blessing upon the troubled air. 

Go where the weak and fearful with tottering footsteps 

The way to Christ, and tell them the gentle words He 


Go where the moral lepers in loathsome dungeons lie, 
Tell them the Balm of Gilead with healing power is nigh. 

Go to the squalid prisons where crime feels sore the rod, 
And bear a gospel message to win the heart to God. 



Go where the souls benighted in mental darkness dwell, 
And of the light of heaven in winning accents tell. 

Go where the abject wander, and where the erring stray ; 
Oh bring them back to Jesus, and love, and joy, and day ! 

Go where the shallow scoffer scatters his seeds of death, 
And tell him that his poison works on when stops his 

Go where thy Faith can see men as jewels lost, but found, 
And tread with holy gladness the sacred, blood-stained 

Go where sweet Hope doth guide thee with vestal lamp 

all bright, 
To speed the " true Light " onward in earth's dark, gloomy 


Go where true Love can labour : in light or darkness go, 
And work, — till Death thine armour strikes off with one 
fell blow. 

For then the joy of heaven will be more true and sweet 
When those whom thou hast succoured, shall rest at Jesus' 


The rose which speaks of love, 
Shines bright in Morning's ray or Evening's gold ; 
Its glory is all other flowers above, 

Its charms are manifold. 

The wild rose blooms alone, 
With apple-scented leaves it decks the bowers 
Of Love and Beauty — when Spring flowers are gone- 

In summer's happy hours. 

The Provence rose is bright, 
And bright the gardens where it buds and blooms, 
In that sweet clime whose cool, clear air of night 

Most sweetly it perfumes. 

The rose of Science fair 
Reveals such glories to the raptured sight 
Of Learning's sons, that they behold in her 

All things or dark or light. 

* Thoughts from Hans Christian Andersen. 


Sweet is the rose that shines 
Deep in an infant's loving, trustful eyes, 
Whose smile within the mother's heart enshrines 

The love which never dies. 

Bright was the rose that bloomed 
Upon our hero's grave, when, dust to dust, 
In glory's 'mid career, he lay entombed 

In faithful, holy trust. 

The pale sweet rose of Grief 
Is watered by sad tears, shed in the night, 
From weary eyes, when sorrow finds relief: — 

So pure, so sweet, so white ! 

The rose of Love, which dwells 
Within a bride's pure heart in holy bliss, 
No eye can see, but thence, like draughts from wells, 

Refreshment gives, and peace. 

Religion's rose is known, 
When happy hearts, in joy and love and grace, 
Repeat their solemn vows to God alone, 

In earth's most holy place. 

The brightest rose that blooms 
In heaven or earth is Jesus' love to man; 
Bright Rose of Sharon ! sweetly it perfumes 

All love, since life began ! 


On Calvary's mount it grows : 
From heaven it came : from blooming realms of bliss — 
How bright ! how pure ! Nor man nor angel knows 

A brighter rose than this ! 

Whoso receives this rose 
From Jesus, reigning in the heavens high, 
He only life and joy eternal knows, 

For he shall never die. 


It had been hot and weary all the day, 
But now the heat was past ; a pleasant warmth 
Filled all the air, and a refreshing breeze 
Was rustling through the woodland yellow leaved. 
The long white grass bent low beside the pool : 
The leaves on all the trees in all the woods 
Were tinted with autumnal mellowness ; 
And far away beneath a gleaming sky 
Waved many acres of bright, golden corn. 
Home from their work within the harvest field 
Walked Farmer Radcliffe with his only son ; 
And, true to the primeval sentence, once 
Pronounced by God Himself, sweat, in great drops, 
Stood on their weary brows from that day's toil. 
Right glad were they to come near home at last ; 
And as they walked thus leisurely along, 
By the last footpath leading to the house, 
Which gently sloped up towards a rustic stile, 
The weary Farmer rested on his way. 
Beside him Robin laid his sickle down 
Upon the topmost rail, and looked due west. 
His eyes that evening followed round and round 
The wings of an old windmill ; and his thoughts 


Did enter then a cottage by the mill — 

A sweet and rural cottage — where his steps 

Were bent at many an eventide like this. 

Quiet it lay, half hid by foliage 

Within a lovely glen beyond the mill. 

The Farmer, seated on the stile, looked o'er 

A splendid English landscape. As the sun 

Was sinking in the west, he dipped behind 

A lake lit up with golden glory ; like 

That sea of glass mingled with fire, of which 

We read in the dark book of the Apocalypse. 

And all the earth around, far off, and near, 

Was bright with Day's departing, glorious light. 

But RadclifTe fixed his eyes upon one field, 

The brightest spot in all the landscape round ; 

A field of yellow corn : the Farmer's own. 

Well grown it was ; the ears were large and full. 

His keen eye saw the golden coins, which there 

Lay hid, as if behind the golden corn. 

For three long days no labourer could be found 

To cut the corn, which now was more than ripe. 

He sat upon the stile sore vexed, and sick 

At heart, to think of precious money lost. 

He swung his stick between his knees awhile, 

As was his wont when he was sore perplexed. 

Anon, after due pause was made, he said : 

" My son ! methinks if yonder field of corn 

Were cut, that I would give consent that thou 

Should'st wed the Shepherd's daughter — Bessie Hall.' 


" What, father? " asked the youth, as he awoke 

From a sweet reverie, in which he saw 

The bright blue eyes of Bessie — his own love. 

The father, smiling grimly, said : "I speak 

Of an impossibility. It grieves 

Me so, to have yon corn still standing there 

So many days, when it is fully ripe, 

That I have thought, if I could get it cut, 

I would consent that thou should'st take to wife 

The Shepherd's daughter yonder — Bessie Hall." 

" The corn field shall be cut, if thou wilt give 

To us consent to marry," Robin said. 

Replied the old man then in accents stern : 

" Son Robin, thou talk'st nonsense ; for if I 

Cannot get hands, I wist that thou wilt not." 

" Trust me," said Robin ; " I will use my hands, 

And cut the field of corn all by myself. 

Without thy free consent Bessie will ne'er 

Take me; let thy consent my wages be." 

The old man laughed outright, for very scorn — 

" Canst thou cut down that corn within three 

days ? " 
Robin replied : " God helping me, I will." 
" Then verily thou shalt have my consent," 
The old man said; ''But mind, she helps thee 

" So be it," Robin said, and both shook hands 
To seal the compact, and the old man went 
Upon his way, smiling incredulously. 


Of all the maids, in all the hamlets round, 
To Robin Radcliffe's mind, the sweetest was 
The humble Shepherd's daughter, Bessie Hall. 
Comely and neat she was, and fair withal ; 
A simple grace was in her every step 
And all her movements ; and her eyes were bright 
With the pure flame of innocence and love. 
Two dimples on her lovely face appeared 
Whene'er she smiled. At Church and Sunday-school 
Sober and grave she always seemed ; as if 
Her soul held converse with the saints in light. 
Her father loved her, and her mother said 
She was a good, devoted child to them. 
Her innocence and grace had won the heart 
Of Robin Radcliffe, the rich Farmer's son. 
The Farmer set his face against the match : 
Bessie he liked : " But she was not the wife," 
He said, " for Robin : he must higher look." 
The Shepherd's family were quite as good 
As Farmer Radcliffe's ; but the latter had 
More wealth laid by, and that had made them proudj 
A marriage with a richer maid than she 
Would more have been to Radcliffe's worldly mind, 
For that would make his son the richer man ; 
What matter at what sacrifice of peace 
The wealth were bought ! 

Robin was young, and had 
A good, and kind, and generous heart ; his face 


And form were fair to look upon ; and he 
Might chance upon a rich and winsome lass. 
Bessie was good, affectionate, and kind ; 
But Radcliffe would not hear of such a match 
For his rich son. Ambition in his heart 
Forbad the thought of such a lowly daughter. 
He never thought that possibility 
Could bring, by means so far impossible, 
His own consent to Robin's only choice. 
" A many-acred field of yellow corn 
Cut down by his own hand in three short days ! 
O silly boy ! " And at his own bright thoughts 
The Farmer laughed aloud. 

In solemn steps 
The Evening came, and Robin's sickle flashed 
Among the ears of corn, and down they fell, 
Beside his feet, in long and shining rows. 
A lad began to bind them into sheaves, 
And gentle Bessie stood a while beside 
To watch the work, and scarce could keep her hands 
From helping too. Robin in silence worked, 
And swiftly fell the corn before his sickle keen. 
The moon walked forth in beauty from the clouds, 
And in her train came one bright, lovely star ; 
Now Bessie said " Good night/' and went away 
To pray for Robin. 

As the night wore on, 
Harder he worked, for love did nerve his arm, 


And fill his heart with joy. New life and strength 

Seemed e'er to come, as he remembered Bessie. 

Through all the night he toiled. When Morning broke, 

It found him still at work ; and Bessie came 

Blithe, bright, and happy, for she felt that all 

Should yet be well, and that her lover would 

Gain Farmer Radcliffe's free and full consent 

To what her heart so long in secret wished ; 

And she and Robin would be happy soon. 

The farm-boy slept for one brief hour alone, 

But Robin failed not all the live-long night. 

He smiled on Bessie as she came to him, 

And paused awhile to eat the food she brought ; 

Then steadily and rapidly he worked 

Until the sun did mount on high, and slant 

His rays through maple, chestnut, beech, and oak. 

The scarlet berries, and the wild white rose, 

The nightshade, and the poppies drooped with heat. 

The reapers, and the binders, and all those 

Who passed along the highway, cried aloud 

Because of heat and thirst, for now the glass 

Was many high degrees beneath the shade. 

A draught of sparkling water from the brook 

Assuaged their thirst ; as also did at times 

" The cups that cheer but not inebriate." 

Out in the open field the lovers stayed ; 

He worked, and she looked on, and heeded not 

The fierce and burning heat, for love did burn 

With warmer glow within their youthful hearts. 


Now Evening came, and all things living ceased 

To work, except a wandering bee which lagged 

Behind, with precious food too heavy-laden. 

Again did Bessie say " Good night," while dew 

In holy stillness gathered on the herbs. 

The nightingale trilled forth his lay of love 

Upon the air sweet-scented \ and on high 

The lovely harvest moon walked forth in light. 

The farm-boy slept again, and all the land 

Was robed in silver light, and laid in sleep ; 

But love alone was waking. Robin toiled 

From Even till Morn, from Morn till Even ; sustained 

By love and hope and Bessie's kindly smile. 

And when the third day came, the Farmer passed, 

And with amazement saw his corn-field laid 

By Robin's single arm ; who rested, pale 

And weary, by the stile where three days past 

He made the compact. He had fallen there, 

And Bessie knelt beside him with a cup 

Of sparkling water to his weary lips ; 

Her eyes were full of joyful, happy tears, 

And on her tongue a prayer of thanks to God. 

As Farmer Radcliffe slowly joined the group, 

Conflicting thoughts disturbed his breast; his tongue 

At first was bound in silence ; then he spake : 

tl I could not have believed in this ; but since 

Your love is strong and true, God bless you both, 

' The labourer is worthy of his hire.' " 

The old man took the Shepherd's daughter's hand, 


And looking up to heaven, he thanked the Lord 
That so much true, unselfish love was found 
On earth ; and then he placed it in his son's. 
And when with joy the harvest home was kept, 
The village bells rang out a merry peal, 
For Robin took to wife the gentle lass 
Whom he had chosen, and so bravely won. 


Whate'er my wondering eyes may see 

In classic lands, of beauty rare, 

My thoughts still wander back to thee, 

And thou art with me everywhere ! 

In France, the home of wit and grace, 

Where Art and Beauty sisters seem, 

I see thy dear familiar face 

In sleeping and in waking dream, 

My arm in fancy round thee twine, 

And closely clasp thy hand in mine. 

Amid the Alps, whose snow-crowned heights 

Direct my thoughts to heaven above, 

Where Fancy's wildest, loftiest flights, 

All bear me to the home of love ; 

I think of thee : for thou didst raise 

My thoughts to these bright scenes at first, 

When from thy lips I heard the praise 

Of those lone hills in music burst. 

I now with greater joy should see 

These lovely scenes, wert thou with me. 


Italia ! land of Song, Art, Fame, 
I hail thee, lovely as thou art, 
The very mention of thy name 
With sacred rapture fills the heart ! 
Thy Poets' sad, but glorious, shades 
Seem now to watch thy doubtful fate, 
Thy Painters' speaking canvas fades 
From walls where age and ruin wait. 
All these with more observant eye 
Should I behold if thou wert nigh. 

Beneath the shade of Milan's dome 
I stood, in awe and wonderment, 
As visons past, and things to come, 
Before my soul's eye came and went ; 
Here Virgil read — here Ambrose preached, 
And here Augustine heard the word 
Which to his inmost conscience reached — 
The Holy Spirit's two-edged sword — 
If thou wert near, ah, then should I 
More glory in each scene descry. 

By Como's lake, by day and night, 
I walked where Pliny walked before, 
And near to Somma, which, in flight, 
Bold Scipio's legions dyed with gore. 


And in the calm and pale moonlight 
By Maggiore's banks I strayed, 
Where fire-flies gleam in bowers at night, 
In groves whose glories never fade. 
But all would brighter, lovelier be, 
Wert thou, my love, my wife, with me. 
Pallanza, Lago Maggiore, 
July 30, 1S75. 


JET 8. 

Our maiden meek, 
With violet eyes 
And rosy cheek, 
And brow as bright 
As lily white 
'Neath summer skies. 

Bright be thy life, 
Without a spot 
Of sin or strife, 
And wealth of love 
From heaven above 
Be all thy lot. 

Be thy soul pure 
And innocent ! 
All things endure 
In holy trust, 
As children must, 
By parents sent. 


A happy child 
Be thou alway, 
Loving and mild 
To all who come, 
Or near thy home 
Or far away. 

Dream, child, of climes 
More bright than this, 
And happier times 
And holier love * 
In worlds above 
'Mid joy and bliss. 

From harm and sin 
May God defend 
Thee here ; and in 
That world of rest 
Be He thy best 
And truest friend. 
Varese, 1878. 


JET 3. 

" Parvum parva decent." — Hor 


Dark eyes, 
Brown hair, 
Rosy cheeks 
So fair ! 
First thing 
Every day 
Sweetly sing 
And pray. 
Loves toys, 
Dolls' curls, 
Small boys 
And girls. 
Cooks pies 
And cakes. 
Wonders at 
Snow-flakes ! 
Makes ball 
Of snow 
In hall 
To throw. 



In fun 
All day, 
Now run 
Now play, 
Falls down 
All spoiled, 
Little gown 
Quite soiled ! 
Loves Sitty 
Much — very, 
Looks witty 
And merry. 


Hears trains 
Thinks canes 
All stuff! 
Loves mama 
Very true, 
And papa 
And you ! 
In summer 
Every day 
Makes pies 
Of clay. 


Loves flowers, 
Plucks two 
All hours 
For you ! 


Old hen 
Took away 
His bread 
That day ! 
Climbs ladder 
Up high, 
Ta! ta! 
Good-bye ! 
Evening comes 
Tired — very, 
Fast asleep 
And weary ! 
So calm 
All night 
Sweet balm — 
Slumbers light. 
God possessing 
Our dear boy, 
His be blessing 
And joy ! 

The Vicarage, Radcliffe-on-Trent, 

Christmas, 1876. 


" Pugna et ego adjuvabo, 
Vince et ego coronabo." 

Marked with the Cross and duly sworn, 
The soldier-servant stands new born, 
Beneath his Saviour's banner high, 
Well pleased for Him to live or die : 
Soldier and servant both combined, 
To fight or serve alike resigned, 
In warfare or in service still 
To press the way to Zion's hill. 

Young Christian soldier ! watch and pray, 
Thy foes surround thee night and day ; 
Grasp firm the sword and bear the shield. 
And soon thy foes shall fly the field. 
Thy Captain will thine arm make strong, 
And conquest shall be thine ere long ; 
Maintain the earnest fight of faith, 
Fight on, thy Master conquered death I 

The Cross was given for thee to bear, 
The Crown will soon be thine to wear ; 


The Cross shall separate from sin, 
The Crown wake Hope thy soul within ; 
For by the Cross is ended strife, 
And Hope beholds the Crown of life ; 
The Cross means death to every sin : 
By dying thus the Crown we win ! 

Stand bold ! like yonder rock, whose breast 
Breaks into spray the billow's crest ; 
And fearlessly defend the right : 
Against a legion thou must fight. 
Earth's fairest flowers pass heedless by, 
For they shall fade, and droop, and die ; 
Encamp not here, and lay not down 
The Cross, till Jesus gives the Crown. 

The sorrowing sons of Zion bless, 
Ah ! speak to them in tenderness ; 
Let this dark world behold thy light 
Forth shining in its dreary night. 
Let every motive be sincere, 
Go ever onward — persevere ! 
Behold ! the prize is fair in view, 
To Christ, and to thy vow, be true. 

All fleeting are the joys of earth, 
And vain the pride of fame or birth ; 
And weak the glory which the tomb 
Shall one day hide within its womb. 


All earthly treasures soon decay, 
And earthly riches flee away ; 
But thou art heir to joys which last 
Secure, when those of earth are past ! 

The narrow path is steep and strait, 
That leads to Zion's shining gate ; 
But that steep path, and that alone, 
Leads to the home where Christ is gone. 
While here, His soldier-servants fight, 
'Gainst Satan's wiles by day and night ; 
Their watchword still, 'mid smile or frown, 
"Who bears the Cross shall wear the Crown. 


By wings of prayer strong faith ascends 

To great Jehovah's throne, 
Whence peace, in love divine, descends 

On men of prayer alone. 

By prayer the light of truth is shed 

Into all earnest hearts ; 
By prayer the sacred flame is fed 

Which Jesus' love imparts. 

By prayer God's saints have oft prevailed 

To turn sin's curse away ; 
By prayer full oft have they availed 

His greatness to display. 

Prayer nerves the arm to strike for God 

In sin's most deadly fight ; 
Prayer leads us where our Master trod, 

To conquer in His might. 

A mirror bright and clear is prayer, 
In which the heavenly Dove 

Reveals to all who worship there 
The face of heavenly Love. 

io6 PRAYER. 

Prayer is the Spirit's voice within 
The soul redeemed and blest, 

Which cries to be released from sin, 
And find in Christ her rest. 

And prayer is Virtue's sacred seal, 
Which stamps the Saviour's own ; 

To them He doth Himself reveal, — 
His covenant make known. 

The bolt which shuts the door on sin 
Is prayer, to loved ones given ; 

By prayer the Saint doth life begin. 
And with it enters heaven. 

Spirit of holiness and peace ! 

Inspire our hearts to pray : 
Give Thou the words: our faith increase, 

Thy grace in us display. 

O Jesu ! Thou art Prayer : * by Thee 
Our prayers all power obtain ; 

Give us in prayer true liberty, 
Nor let us pray in vain. 

Like him of old, whom Thou didst love, 

Be there an answer given, 
While yet our lips in rapture move 

In prayer to Thee in heaven ! 

* See Psalm cix. 4. 


Boldly, in the name of Jesus, 

And in faith that He will ease us. 

Without ceasing ; constantly. 

Waiting for the answer given 

At the will of God in heaven. 

Earnestly ; believingly. 

By the Holy Spirit offered, 

Must each prayer in faith be proffered, 

While we lowly bend. 

Answers then, abundant, flowing 

From our God ; our wishes knowing, 

Shall on us descend. 


Cautiously wish for them, O my heart. 
Submissively ask for them, from thy God. 
Honestly choose thou the better part. 
Contentedly want them : " Hear the rod." 
Humbly take them when they are given. 
Prudently manage them : in this excel. 
Lawfully use them, as gifts of Heaven. 
Freely deal them out as well. 
Moderately value them : they may flee. 
Rightly increase them. Ah ! beware. 
Subserviently use them : they are not for thee. 
Easily part with them, free of care. 
Then at the last, when life is o'er, 
" Well done " shall greet thee from yonder shore ! 



Our life is made of moments, which are set 
Like diamonds fair within its golden hours. 
Employ them well, and they shall one day yield 
Rich interest to thee ; and at the last — 
When all the treasure of thy life is spent — 
As dying Jacob on his best loved sons 
Did lay his hands in blessing — Time shall lay 
His hands upon thy head, and let thy soul 
Depart to heaven, there to renew her youth. 
Therefore I counsel thee to spend thy time 
In gathering stores of knowledge, like the bee, 
Which sips the sweet of every flower that blows. 
Enrich thy soul ; then giving forth will not 
Impoverish thee, but bring upon thy head 
Blessings sincere from many a thankful heart. 
To raise mankind, and lead the sinful world 
In brighter, happier ways ; be that thine aim ! 
Let some benighted, erring son of man, 
Reclaimed from evil, be thy monument, 
Whose after life of rectitude shall tell 
Thy praises, truer than a storied urn. 


The weak, unhappy wretch, cared for by none, 
The lonely widow and poor orphan bless. 
Reclaim the foolish drunkard, lead him back 
To ways of virtue, holiness, and God. 
The broken heart bind up, and pour the balm 
Of peace and love into the wounded breast. 
Nor from the poor man turn away, but give 
As God hath prospered thee ; for what thou giv'st 
Is all to Jesus given. And counsel give 
To him whose soul, in doubt and wild despair, 
Is trembling on the brink of ruin, almost lost. 
Thy free reward how rich ! when Jesus comes 
Thy name to bless before assembled worlds, 
And call thee home in words of tender love — 
" Come, blessed of my Father, come ; for thou, 
When I was hungred, gav'st me meat ; when thirst 
Assailed me, thou didst give me drink ; when cold, 
Thou gav'st me garments ; and when I w r as sick, 
And bound in prison, thou didst come to me. 
Come, and inherit now the kingdom which 
I have prepared for thee ; where all the wise 
Shall shine as brightness of the firmament ; 
And they who many turned to righteousness, 
As stars, for ever and for evermore ! " 

The spirit of our life is sacrifice, 
In all things to be spent for Christ alone ; 
And as He died, so we from self must die, 
And live to Him and to mankind the more, 


For He is our example. Come and see 

On Calvary's mount what He hath done for us. 

My soul ! approach this sacred place with awe, 

For here thy God in substitution vast 

Is suffering for sin : here God's own Son, 

Eternal and Almighty, dies for thee ! 

The trembling earth and darkened sun declare 

His high Divinity ! the ancient rocks 

In pieces break ; the sleeping saints arise, 

The Temple veil is rent. The angel hosts 

Behold, with awe profound, their Maker die ! 

Come near and ponder o'er His dying woes. 

Reproach His heart hath broken, and His soul 

Is filled with sorrow ; He is all alone. 

His few disciples, weak in faith, are gone. 

And pain doth pierce His hands, His head, His heart. 

Death's cold damp dews steal o'er His bleeding brow, 

And oh, the grief of griefs ! His Father's face 

Away from Him is turned : — Hark, hear His cry, 

" Eli ! Eli ! lama Sabachthani ? " 

Rest here, my soul, for ever, and behold 

That love displayed, whose depths are measureless ! 

The memory of His death shall ever live 

On earth, proclaimed by God's ambassadors : 

In gratitude's o'erflovving heart it lives in heaven. 

Ye choirs on high ! awake your harps and sing, 

For He, from falling kept you safe, secure, 

The angels of His blest, electing love. 

Great God of Love ! my soul cries out for Thee : 


O fill me with Thy love ; and let me know 
That love displayed within me, and around. 

The grandeur of the vault of heaven's blue sky, 

And trembling light of sun, and moon, and stars, 

The many-coloured blossoms of the trees, 

And fragrance of earth's sweetest-smelling flower?, 

The beauty of the cloud-encirled hills, 

The song of summer bird, and rippling brook, 

And rolling bass of ocean ; — these are all 

The tokens of a love about us spread. 

All lawful passions and delights of heaven, 

All ties of friendship and the true heart's love, 

All kindness shown to suffering men, for which 

They bless and love the memory of our name, 

Do tell of love in us. But solemn thoughts, 

And aspirations after purity, 

And holiness, and God ; — all good desires 

Which upward tend, like holy altar flames, 

To kiss the throne of Heaven, are yearnings towards 

A love above us, and that love is God. 

This truth the cross of Christ declares to all, 

For there is written in bright characters, 

By God's Almighty hand, " Herein is love ! " 

And whoso dwells in love in God doth dwell ; 

And in Him lives and walks, for God is Love. 

O holy, blessed Trinity Divine ! 

Thou art my God, and I am safe in Thee. 

Let vile calumniator's tongue abuse, 


And blow your worst, ye adverse storms of life ; 
Let me be dashed with filth of earth and hell, 
And in temptations foul, storm-lashed, alone ; 
Let fortune, fame, and friendship all depart, 
And give me nought to eat but sorrow's bread, 
No drink, but what affliction's sons may drink, — 
The tears of want and woe ; and let me lie 
In foul disease upon a bed of death ; 
Yet if I catch but one bright smile of Thee, 
And pillow then my weary, dying head 
Upon the bosom of my Saviour God, 
No evil shall I fear for evermore ! 

Gods of the nations ! bow your puny heads, 
And fall in adoration at the cross 
Of Him " Who was, and is, and is to come." 
For ye, tho' worshipped by the blind, shall fall 
And moulder into dust at His command. 
The snow-crowned hills and gently flowing streams, 
Deserts and fruitful plains, at His approach, 
Shall change their form, and lovelier far become ; 
And thou, fair Queen of Night, with all thy train, 
That walk so calmly thro' the halls of heaven, 
Your lights shall fade away at His approach ; 
And thou, O Sun ! who dost renew thy youth 
From morn to morn, e'en like the fabled bird, 
That from her ashes springs to life again, 
Shalt robe thyself in darkness when He comes. 
And ye were worshipped ! so were vilest beasts, — 



Serpents, and creeping things, and fowls of air, — 

All creatures of His hand,— while He, the Lord 

Of life, and mind, and glory, was forgot. 

Ah, weak and foolish man ! How oft hast thou 

To banish God from His creation striven ! 

But fruitless, vain, and weak thy efforts proved, 

And ever shall ; for all things witness bear 

That He is God and Maker of them all. 

Enrobed in beauty all the universe 

Proclaims His power, His greatness, and His love. 

The bud of Spring, and Summer's full-blown flower, 

The ripened sheaf which bounteous Autumn yields, 

The pure and spotless dress of Winter cold, 

The glorious Sun, the starry gems of Night, 

And lovely Moon, with one consent, sing hymns 

Of praise, in never-ceasing strains, to God ! 

Oh, where, amid the countless orbs on high, 

In all the distant realms of boundless space, 

Within the solar round, or far beyond 

Its compass, where our thought can never reach, 

Is His great throne ? 

If with a seraph's flight 
I haste away, and rest not, but pass o'er 
Myriads of miles at every pulse's beat 
For months, and years, through yielding space, and then 
Survey from where I have attained in height, 
Or depth, or length, or breadth, — what do I see ? — 
The shining bright of blazing suns around, 
Whose light has dawned for ages far away ; 


Yet these are but the courts of God's bright home, 

That temple where, enthroned in state, He dwells. 

But why rove thus away ? He's ever near 

To smile on me : — and where God smiles is heaven ! 

My Father ! may I ever live for Thee, 

May all my life be spent in serving Thee ! 

Teach me the greatest, noblest end of man, 

Which is to love Thee well and do Thy will ! 

Awake, my soul ! to duty wake, and see 

Christ's image in the suffering poor, and share 

Thy crust, thy counsel, and thy love with them. — 

To teach man's end in life, and life's true aim, 

Our Saviour tells the story of two lives, 

One rich, one poor. The poor man loved his God, 

The rich man loved this present world alone. — 

Mysterious providence ! God's children dear 

Oft suffer cold, and want, and nakedness : 

Whilst Belial's sons in bounty's lap are nursed. 

Now r Lazarus receives his evil things, 

No loving friend is near to heal his sores, 

Or bring him food to satisfy his want. 

At last, from pain, and woe, and suffering free, 

He sinks, he dies ! 

Now to his home on high 
The poor, afflicted Lazarus is borne. 
Upon his dazzled vision opens wide 
The portals of that city, where his God — 
His Saviour, Prophet, Priest, and King — doth reign 
In righteousness ! Its pearly gates, and walls 


Of jasper bright ; its streets of gold, and domes 
And battlements with heavenly jewels set, 
His eyes behold ! and there in peace he dwells. 
There evil days and restless nights are not ; 
And sickness, mourning, and the silent tomb 
Shall never come within those holy walls. 
And there, amid the bright angelic throng, 
With robe of spotless white, and harp of gold, 
'Mid bowers of amaranth, and scenes of joy, — 
Unfading, holy, pure, and cloudless joy, — 
Lives holy Lazarus in peace and love. 

When Dives' hour to leave the world has come, 

How different are his prospects and his end ! 

In wild despair he clings to earth and cries, 

Long have I quaffed life's pleasure's cup unmixed, 

And run the fascinating round of joy, 

Amid a host of gay and jovial friends. 

At morn along the sea-encircled shore, 

We gathered in delight at sound of horn ; 

And, while all nature smiled in loveliness, 

We chased the panting hart through vale and wood. 

And when the bright and glorious summer sun 

Rained golden splendour on the scenes around, 

And made all nature in its youth rejoice, 

We too rejoiced, and hoped our joys would last. 

And when the sacred hours of Evening came, 

Silent and still, to woo the soul to prayer, 

E'en then, to festive hall we thronged in joy, 


With mirth and dance and song to spend the night. 

Ah, must I now leave all those pleasing joys ? 

Must all I love forsake me ? — must I die ? 

Oh, life and joy, miscalled ! ye cannot give 

Your votary a balm, or comfort now. 

Death comes ! and if he did but quench life's spark, 

And let me sleep in silence, all were well. 

But no ; my spirit lives ! The wreck of worlds 

It will survive ; then must I dwell remote 

From God, and light of heaven, and love, and joy? 

Oh that I could repent ! — 'tis now too late : 

My life has all been spent in vanity ; 

And as I sowed, so must I reap at last. 

Oh, hide me, hide me from the face of God ! 

Cover me, — hold me, — for I die, — I die ! 

And now, in that mysterious spirit world, 

He asks for blessings at the poor man's hand. 

And is there prayer in Hades' lowest pit ? 

Are outspread hands, and supplicating tones, 

In earnest felt desire, there exercised ? 

Prayer is the spirit's best desire for good, 

For purity, for virtue, and for God. 

The evil consequence, which sin has earned, 

To take away, it asks not, — that were selfishness, 

A holy life spent in the light of God, 
Is one continual prayer : its footsteps sound 
Like Aaron's bells, when serving God and man. 
Once did I know a lovely soul, who lived, 


Within the light of God, a holy life ; 

And I have seen her bend to pray alone 

At Evening's tranquil hour in heavenly peace. — 

The clouds reflected Day's departing ray, 

The wind, in soft JEolian sounds, swept o'er 

The mountain top, and lingered in the vale. 

This is the hour when holiest thoughts will come, 

When Nature smiles ere yet she goes to rest, 

And wild birds' notes are heard on every breeze. 

She knelt in fervent prayer, with eyes upraised, 

Which seemed to look beyond the skies to God ! 

Her lovely brow was calm, and clear, and bright, 

As if a light from heaven had rested there ! 

I heard her breathe, in accents soft and sweet, 

"Lord, pardon all my sins, and make me pure; 

Send forth Thy light and truth to guide my way 

To live, to labour, and to die to Thee ; 

And when my labours here on earth are done, 

Grant me to find a rest beside Thy feet." 

In admiration deep I stood entranced, 

And raised my voice to Heaven, and prayed for her : 

" May life be smooth, and all men kind to thee ; 

And may thy path be lit by smiles of love 

From loving friends, sincere and good. And may 

The love of God the Father strengthen thee, 

The love of God the Son o'ershadow thee, 

The love of God the Spirit dwell with thee, 

The love of Father, Son, and Spirit, bring 

Thee safe at last, to God's bright home of love." 



By my hearth and in my household weary ones I know, 
But I have not spoken gently to assuage their woe. 

And my neighbours, near of kindred, whom a word may 

I have never told them truly of a Friendship dear. 

Friends in distant lands all lonely wait a message kind, 
Them I have not cheered by tidings of friends left behind. 

Unrelieved the poor and weary have been sent away, 
And the sick, in garrets dreary, have not heard me pray. 

To the thirsty soul, refreshment I have seldom given, 
And the stranger, oh how cruel ! — from my path I've 

From the ragged, naked children I have turned away, 
To the fold I have not taken lambs gone far astray. 

Oh ! my Saviour, how unworthy am I, and have been ! 
Dare I ask Thee, holy Jesus — wash away my sin ? 


Grant repentance, give me pardon, send me power and 

That I may in every sinner see a brother's face. 

And as I relieve the sorrow which I daily see, 
Let me do it always, only, as, my God, to Thee ! 


Out of the depths of sin and woe, 

And pain and grief, 
I cry, O Jesu ! Let me know 

Thy sweet relief. 
Come swiftly to my rescue Thou, 

And take me home, 
With weary feet and burning brow 

Afar I roam. 
Away from Thee the night is dark, 

The storm is high : 
Upon the billow rides my bark ; 

O be Thou nigh, 
To guide me o'er the surging sea 

Of doubt and sin ; 
Send Thy free Spirit unto me, 

To lead me in 
The path of holiness and love 

And wisdom blest, 
Till in Thy Paradise above 

Secure I rest. 


O Lord my Light ! shine into my dark soul, 

And make my thought, and words, and actions pure ; 

O make me like to Thee, 

And I shall sin no more. 

Thou art my Light ! but oh, my sinful heart 
Is black as tents of Kedar ; let Thy Sun 

In love shine down on me, 

And I shall comely seem. 

And tho' Thy brightness makes my sin appear, 
Yet in Thy light, shall I The Light behold, 

Which drives the clouds away 

That wrap me dark in sin. 

The shades of darkness cause to flee away ; 
And send Thy light and truth to lead me home, 

And there the day of heaven 

Shall break upon my soul. 

In that bright land of love, where Thou alone 
Art Light and Sun, the truth at once is seen, 

Which now, thro' error's clouds, 

We reach by slow degrees. 


() Father, Holy Spirit, Jesu Christ, 

Take my weak hand, and lead me in Thy light, 
And let me every day 
Grow more and more like Thee. 

And when, upon the resurrection morn, 
I, rising from the tomb, shall see Thy face, 

Then shall my face and soul 

Reflect Thine image pure ! 


To guide man home the surest way, 
This holy book our God has given ; 

Then let me read it day by day, 

And walk by its clear light to heaven. 

It is my Father's gift to me ; 

Then let me love it evermore, 
Until His face with joy I see 

On heaven's eternal sunless shore. 

Should darkness round my path increase, 
Bright gleams of light it sheds around 

To guide me into paths of peace, 

Where each bright spot is hallowed ground. 

When sin is bold, and pain and woe 

Fill my weak spirit with alarm, 
Teach me, O God, Thy Truth to know, 

And vain their power to do me harm. 


Pardon to rebels God proclaims 
In this His holy, steadfast word, 

Thro' that blest Name above all names, 
Whose very sound doth peace afford. 

The precious Name of Jesus Christ, 
The weary spirit's final rest — ■ 

The pearl above all riches priced, 
The brightest treasure of the blest. 

Strength to the weak is promised here, 
The dead are told of endless life. 

Grasp all, my soul ! with faith sincere, 
And soon shall end thy weary strife. 

To slaves, by Satan sore opprest, 
Freedom this word of truth declares, 

And tells of peace and holy rest 
In Jesus Christ, from all his snares. 

Wisdom to make the sinner wise 

Unto salvation here we find, 
Truth to detect all Satan's lies, 

And love to gladden heart and mind. 

The young man doth his way make clean 
In ruling it by God's own word ; 

The old man on this staff doth lean, 
The Christian warrior wields this sword. 


Sublimest flights of seraph's wing 
Are here recorded ; and a child 

From hence instruction sweet may bring, 
In simple faith and patience mild. 

The exile here may read of home, 
When o'er life's sea in trouble driven, 

And see by faith his Saviour come, 

To guide him thro' the storm to heaven. 


In highest heaven God reigns alone, 
The Holy Spirit, Father, Son, 
The One in Three, the Three in One. 
Archangels there behold His face, 
Witness His power and feel His grace, 
And countless myriads ever sing 
Thrice Holy to their God and King. 

The distant planets as they roll 
Are guided by His wise control, 
Yea, all creation's wide expanse 
Is under His All-seeing glance ! 
In yonder Sun which rules the day, 
In Vesper's faint and trembling ray, 
And in the Moon's pale, silvery light, 
And in each star which decks the night, 
Is seen alike their Maker's hand, 
For all arose at His command. 

The Dayspring from on high He brings 
When Morning spreads her golden wings, 
And Evening shadows slowly fall 
When Night her veil throws over all. 


We hear Him in the whispering wind, 
His Presence bright in all things find ; 
To man and beast He giveth life, 
He sendeth peace, where man brings strife. 

In dewy tears of summer morn, 

Which glisten on the flower and thorn, 

In every brooklet's winding course, 

And in the river's onward force, 

Jn the great ocean's crested wave, 

And in each solemn silent cave, 

In verdant vales, with bounteous hand 

He showers His blessings o'er the land. 

And in the thunder's solemn roll, 

Winch strikes with awe the trembling soul, 

In ages past, in time to come, 

In every birth, in every tomb, 

We trace alike His hand benign, 

And humbly own His power divine. 

In the dread avalanche's crash, 
And in the lightning's vivid flash, 
And in the fragrant summer gale, 
Which bows the rose and swells the sail, 
And in the bleak and desert plain, 
Where death and desolation reign. 
In lovely scenes and silent dells, 
Where grow the foxglove's pendent bells, 


And in the deep and tangled wood. 

Where finds the wandering beast his food. 

In harmony of song and sound, 

In " lovely peace with plenty crowned." 

In every mother's watchful care, 

In every father's fervent prayer. 

In what befalls us, good or ill. 

We recognize God's holy will. 

In all creation God we see, 

And yet distinct from all is He. 


Lord ! when Thy wayward children rove 

Far from their heavenly Father's care ; 
When wicked thoughts our passions move, 

And we forget whose sons we are ; 
In love, Thy gentle, chastening hand 

Is laid upon us, to recall 
Our wandering spirits back to Thee, 

And set us free from sinful thrall. 

As when rude tempests shake the oak, 

Refreshing waters drop the while, 
And from its trembling leaves descend 

Fresh showers which make the verdure smile ; 
So do afflictions only press 

From us the good which others feel ; 
And we shall think their weight the less, 

When all in peace before Thee kneel, 

And there proclaim Thy truth and Love, 
And e'en in sorrow own Thy care ; 

For joy and grief come from above, 

In each Thou mak'st Thy children share. 


That, like as gold is tried by fire. 

And made more pure from earthly dross, 
So may each loving heart aspire 

To heaven, though bowed beneath a cross ! 


Christian ! though thy heart with sorrow 

Oft is dark because of sin, 
Though thine enemy assail thee 
In thy secret soul within, 
Jesus liveth, 
And He giveth 
To His people life and joy ; 
Let His praise thy tongue employ. 

Trust the promise true, of Jesus, 

Listen to His words of life — 
"None shall pluck from Me My loved ones." 
What He says should end all strife. 
Trust thy Saviour, 
Seek His favour, 
His blood cleanses us from sin ; 
Purify thy soul therein. 

God's dear child art thou, beloved ; 

Sealed, secure by love Divine, 
In His holy changeless covenant ; 

Therefore claim His promise thine. 


" My Father gave them, 

And I have them 
Written on my hands and heart : 
They and I shall never part." 

Like to Jesus, pure and holy, 
Thou art chosen so to be ! 
Closely follow Him, and think not 
That to break the law thou'rt free. 
Meek and lowly, 
Living wholly 
For thy Saviour here below, 
Onward still for ever go ! 

Like the morning light thy pathway, 

Shining to the perfect day, 
Brighter growing all thy lifetime, 
Till thou'rt called from earth away 
Unto heaven ; 
Where is given 
Brighter suns in clearer skies, 
Where the daylight never dies. 

All the strength of thy salvation 

Rests in Christ's unchanging love : 
He Who found will one day bring thee 
To His Father's house above. 
Trust Him ever, 
Doubt Him never ; 


Fear betrays a wavering heart, 
Fearful souls from Him depart 

Once by living faith united 

To thy Saviour, fear no ill ; 
All His people found Him faithful ; 
What He once was He is still. 
The Christian fears not, 
God forswears not. 
Once in Christ, in Christ for ever ; 
Once beloved, forsaken never. 


Entreat me not to leave thee so, 

For I will surely follow thee ; 
Whither thou goest, I will go, 

And faithful always be. 
Where'er thou dwellest I will dwell, 

And from thee never seek to rove ; 
Thy friends shall be my friends as well, 

And thy God only will I love. 
Where thou shalt die, the same green sod 

Shall cover me whene'er I die ; 
Together we will worship God, 

Together in the same grave lie. 
May God His direst wrath pour down 

On me, if ever false I be ; 
I love thee, though the world may frown,- 

Death only shall part thee and me, 


It is most true that one can tell 
When leaving friends, who loves the most ; 
And when the joys of home are lost, 

Who bids the tenderest farewell. 

Before one throne of grace we knelt, 
To lift in peace the voice of prayer : 
We felt secure and happy there, 

Nor pangs of parting ever felt. 

The scenes, the sports, the joys of yore, 
The happy hours around the hearth, 
When all the household joined in mirth 

With thee, we shall enjoy no more. 

The love that youth's glad bosom fills, 
By some will be forgotten, soon 
As Morning's rays are lost in Noon, 

Or sunlight dies on distant hills. 

But we, in memory's dearest store, 
Thy name and all that once were thine 
Shall treasure up, and there enshrine 

For ever, and for evermore. 

FARTED. 137 

When far from home and Friendship's care, 

Remember us with whom, in youth, 

Thou pouredst forth thy soul in truth 

At Morning and at Evening prayer. 


When Spring comes forth with flowerets gay to deck the 

fields anew, 
And the sun shines out at Morning's dawn to kiss the 

sparkling dew, 
I take my lonely walk again, amid the scenes I love, 
Away beside the sounding stream, beneath the shady 

grove ; 
I love to hold communion with Dame Nature silently, 
Her look is always loving, and she has a smile for me. 

When Summer comes with verdure crowned, and per- 
fume in the air, 

And the sun spreads o'er the evening clouds his lovely 
golden hair, 

When soft winds play among the trees, in freshness sweet 
and cool, 

And lambkins sport about the lawn, and troutlets in the 
pool ; — 

In fields remote I love to rove, and gather wild flowers 

Where the birds sing loud their Evening song, and the 
bracken brush my feet. 


When Autumn comes, with ripened sheaf, to crown the 
fruitful year, 

I then go forth to see the woods in yellow leaf and sere ; 

When russet robins hop and sing among the faded 

And sparrows chirp in quick response beneath the slop- 
ing eaves ; 

When the setting sun sheds glory bright along the western 

And the harvest moon, in golden light, walks forth in 
peace on high. 

When Winter, glorious Winter, comes, the crowning 

time of all, 
In snowy garments and dark clouds, black as a funeral 

Forth 'mid the storm, and tempest's rush, and torrent's 

deafening roar, 
I love to roam, in cold pure air, far through the forests 

hoar ; 
At night, amid the leafless wood, my lonely path I 

With guides unerring, silver stars, in heaven's dark blue 


Thus all the year has charms for me, and every season 

A pleasure and a glory bright upon its golden wings. 


I always feel a thrill of joy amid such scenes to roam, 
Away beside far sounding streams and in the groves near 

Oh ! may my life glide on in peace, amidst the scenes I 

Until I reach my blessed home, the heavenly land above. 


" di(. der du nock einen Vater oder eine Mutter hast, danke Gott 
an dem Tage dafur, wo deine Seele voll Freudenthranen ist und einer 
Brust bedarfi an der sie sie vergiessen kannP 

Jean Paul; " Quintus Fixlein" 

Gentle one ! I love thee dearer 

Than all others here on earth ; 
To me than all the world thou'rt nearer, 

Both by ties of love and birth. 

O'er my childhood's fitful slumber 

Thou didst watch with anxious thought ; 

And with sweet affection number 
Daily comforts, hourly wrought. 

Thy maternal kindness blessed me, 
Ere I knew from whom it came, 

And with arms of love caressed me, 
Till I felt its holy flame. 

At thy feet I knelt in childhood, 

To repeat my Evening prayer ; 
From the meadow and the wild wood, 

My young thoughts oft wandered there. 


In the hour of sore temptation 
Thine example strengthened me ; 

Under God, my soul's salvation, 
And all joy I owe to thee. 

Thou art old, and many a letter 

Care has written on thy brow ; 

But I love thee all the better, — 

Never loved thee more than now. 



The bright rosy morning 

Is breaking now, 
Its light is adorning 

The heaven's calm brow. 
Sparkles the fountain 

In crystal showers, 
Vale, hill, and mountain, 

Are covered with flowers. 
The red rose blowing, 

And wild flowers blue 
Smile on skies glowing 

Thro' silver dew. 
The blithe lark is singing, 

To welcome the day ; 
From earth upspringing 

He soars away ! 
Beautiful shadows 

Around are seen 


On forests and meadows 

In golden sheen. 

The white swan is gliding 

In pride o'er the lake ; 

The pheasant is hiding 

In meadow and brake. 


Walks the Eve slowly 

In golden stole ; 
Calm thoughts and holy, 

Come to my soul ! 
The church bells are ringing 

Both loud and long ; 
The milk-maid is singing 

Her merry sweet song. 
The landscape sleepeth 

'Neath moonbeams pale : 
The shepherd boy keepeth 

His watch in the vale. 
Fair Venus in heaven, 

With vestal light, 
For mortals is given 

To lighten the night. 
The bright Moon smileth 

O'er mountain and vale, 
And the lone hours beguileth 

The sweet nightingale ! 



Slowly and wearily 

Breaks the grey morn, 
Silently, drearily, 

Cold and forlorn. 
Bare is the forest, 

The flowers are dead ; 
Now sorrows the sorest 

Break over our head. 
Dear friends are sleeping 

Beneath the cold sod, 
Whose spirits are keeping 

The Sabbath of God ! 
Them Christ shall awaken 

From slumber again, 
And then shall be shaken 

Death's heavy chain. 
For love, joy, and gladness 

Shall fill every heart, 
And care, woe, and sadness 

For ever depart. 
Cold winter shall scatter 

His hoar frost no more, 
Nor chain the bright water 

In ice to the shore, 
The summer of heaven 

Shall break in delight, 



When to them is given 

The day without night. 


The day declineth, 

Fast falls the night ; 
Now the moon shineth 

So calm and bright ! 
The snow descendeth 

From heaven above \ 
The household blendeth 

In joy and love. 
All are surrounding 

The yule log bright, 
And young hearts are bounding 

With holy delight ! 
Now they read over 

The story of peace, 
And around them still hover 

Bright spirits of bliss. 
It seems as if angels 

Were singing again 
Their blessed evangels 

Of good will to men ! 
May God's Spring in gladness, 

Its bright glories shed 
O'er us, when all sadness 

For ever is fled ! 


When the sun to his rest, in the golden west 

In liquid light sinks away, 
I come forth to shine, with light half divine, 

Far lovelier than the Day. 
Night's solemn dread throne is mine alone ; 

The stars that burn around 
Are all my bright train ; supremely I reign 

In the stillness of heaven profound ! 

I smile on the walls of Abbeys and Halls 

Like a maid on her gray-haired sire ; 
And I walk on the sea right pleasantly, 

In a track of silvery fire. 
The poet looks from his ponderous books, 

Deep thought on his brow I see ; 
Nor love's first kiss deems he half such bliss 

As a glance at night from me. 

I bless with my light, in the solemn midnight, 

The roving son of the sea ; 
And he loves his home on the ocean's white foam, 

Whose waves are ruled by me ! 


O'er childhood's sleep lone vigils I keep, 

And I watch its heaving breast ; 
And smile when I see in security 

Each bird in its downy nest. 

Yon maiden fair with the golden hair, 

Or she of the ebon tress, 
Looks fairer far than the evening star 

In my rays of loveliness ! 
When she worships alone before the Lord's throne, 

I smile on her brow so fair ; 
And I look from above with a glance of love, 

As she breathes her soul in prayer. 

In the deep forest shade and in silent glade, 

My light doth a network make ; 
When I shine through the trees, and when Night's 
lone breeze 

Makes the branches and leaflets shake. 
The sounding stream loves my silvery beam ; 

Its changing smile I see ; 
And the nightingale sings with folded wings, 

When his eye is fixed on me. 

With the clouds I fight in my chariot of light, 

And when they conceal my face, 
My silvery hair is flowing fair 

Throughout all the depths of space. 


The snow-capped hill and the sweet warbling rill 

Sparkle beneath my ray ; 
Into man's troubled breast I shed sweet rest, 

After the cares of day. 

On the battle plain I behold the slain 

Peaceful in death laid down. 
O'er friend and o'er foe my radiance I throw, 

And behold no angry frown. 
Their comrades raise the song of due praise 

And chant the solemn psalm, 
While I from the throne of Night look down 

On brows subdued and calm. 

Thus while men sleep my watch I keep, 

Like a vigil-keeping nun ; 
And I patiently wait till the Day's bright gate 

Is opened before the sun. 
And when Morning awakes, and sunlight breaks, 

In floods of golden light, 
I fade slowly away before the Day, 

Having lightened, for men, the night. 

To man, in each land, and on every strand, 

Of ancient and modern time, 
Be he savage in heart, or cultured in art, 

Or in sunny or dreary clime, 


Or in Greece or in Rome, or abroad or at home, 

I am ever a welcome guest, 
And I rain down light from my throne every night, 

And in shedding forth blessing am blest. 


" Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus 
Singula dum capti circumvectamur amore." 


An hour ago ! 

The golden light of Evening stole 

Around the mountain's hoary brow ; 

A thrill of joy made glad my soul, 

But all is past and over now. 

The twilight of the summer Even 

Has vanished from the calm, blue heaven ; 

And moonlit clouds, 

Like ghosts in shrouds, 
Float o'er the ether to and fro, 
Where sunbeams shone an hour ago. 

An hour ago ! 

The year's last rose I gave to one 

As dear as sister unto me ; 

But it is faded — she is gone — 

Her face I ne'er on earth shall see. 

For Fate's dividing chariot wheels 

Between us roll. How fast he steals ! 


Year follows year, 

Until the sere 
And yellow leaf of life appear ! 
Though youth has passed, we think it near. 

An hour ago ! 

The calm sweet eyes of her we loved 

Looked on us from their orbs of light, 

But glory o'er their vision moved, 

And they are closed in Death's dark night. 

Now she beholds the sunless land, 

Bright in its radiance she doth stand, 

At Jesu's feet 

Is her retreat, 
Secure from sin and pain and woe — 
She, whom we loved an hour ago ! 

An hour ago ! 

The hasty word in anger spoken, 

Doth rankle now in weary hearts, 

The Lute's sweet sounding chords are broken, 

The joy from out the life departs ! 

The evil deed so lately done 

Doth leave the sufferer alone ; 

Life's joy is dead, 

And peace is fled, 
Hope faintly tells the day will come, 
When sin shall not defile our home. 


An hour ago ! 

Tis gone, and never will return. 

Its pleasures, too, with it are past ; 

Its sun in time no more shall burn, 

For nought on earth can always last, 

Here all things feel the hand of death — 

Like flowers they fade. Time's withering breath 

Destroys their sweets, 

And each heart beats 
Its requiem low of sorrow and woe, 
For joys which died an hour ago. 


*' Visions of Childhood ! Stay, oh, stay ! 
Ye were so sweet and wild." 


Poetical Hours ! when dreams of youth 
And fancy, — youngest born, — 

So full of love and joy and truth 
Possessed me Eve and Morn. 

O brightest hours that earth has given 

The sweetest and the best ! 
A foretaste of the days of heaven 

When every hour is blest. 

The savour of your sweetness, still 

Doth linger round me yet, 
Nor memory, nor thought, nor will 

Your pleasures can forget. 

No tongue can tell, no hand can write 

No thought can realize 
The memories which you invite 

Before my raptured eyes. 


Sweet musings of my leisure hours 

When weary work was o'er, 
And I, 'mid summer birds and flowers, 

Did learn a hidden lore ! 

And saw bright visions of the past, 

And dreamt of joys to come, 
And sang of friendship which will last 

When all on earth is dumb. 

Now called by care from you to part, 

I seek you oft in vain, 
But visions, born of you, my heart 

With joy revive again, 


Fare-thee-well ! May Jesus guard thee 
Wheresoe'er thy footsteps tread. 

May the Lord of life reward thee, 
Showering blessings on thy head. 

May guardian angels with thee dwell — 

Again, and yet again, farewell ! 

Fare-thee-well ! May God's strong arm 
Steer thy bark o'er life's rough sea. 

May He shield thy soul from harm, 
Bless, direct, and succour thee. 

May His blest Spirit with thee dwell — 

Again, and yet again, farewell ! 


" Gloria in altissimis Deo, 
Et in terra pax hominibus bon^s voluntatis. ,? 



" Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given." — Isa. ix. 6. 

Hail to Thee, most holy 

Child, from heaven above, 
Born of mother lowly, 

All the earth to move 
With gratitude divine, and win them by Thy love ! 

Thou, Thy Father leaving, 

Conrst a child to be, 
Holy friendship weaving 

'Twixt our souls and Thee, 
That we may come at last our Father's face to see. 

Thou, from holy angels 

Com'st on earth to dwell ; 
At Thy birth evangels 

Those bright spirits tell, 
Which cheer the heart of man, whom sorrow sore befell. 

Could I tell the treasures 
Thou hast come to bring, 


What delightful measures 
From my harp would ring ; 
Then all the world should list, enraptured, while I sing ! 

From the throne of heaven 

Thou to earth hast come 
On this Christmas even, — 

Welcome to our home ! 
Be Thou our Friend and Guide wherever we may roam. 

Child from heaven, we bless Thee, 

And worship, and adore. 
Love would fain caress Thee, 
And keep Thee evermore, 
To cheer the weary souls, — the wounded hearts and sore. 

Grief comes now, and sorrow, 

Anguish, woe, and pain, 
Peace from Thee to borrow, 
Rest and joy to gain. 
Give us Thy peace, O Christ, our fainting souls sustain. 

How shall we receive Thee, 

Blessed, Holy Child ? 
Not with sins which grieve Thee, 

But in fervour mild 
Enshrine Thee in our hearts, Thou Holy, Undefiled ! 


He, who Thee receiveth, 

Life and light shall have \ 
He, who Thee believeth, 
Triumphs o'er the grave ; 
For Thou art Lord of Life, Almighty Thou, to save. 

Humbly, to Thy manger, 

Lord of life, I come ; 
Rescue me from danger, 

Lead me to my home ; 
In pleasant, peaceful paths, may I henceforward roam • 


God's true Light is shining 

In yon lonely cave : 
Come ye, in sorrow pining, 

And see beyond the grave ; 
For He has come on earth the faithful soul to save. 

Come, all men, and sing ye 

Praise to God for this ; 
Gifts, in rapture, bring ye, 

For such light and bliss : 
No light revealed before can once compare with this. 

Light of true Salvation 
Shineth clear and bright, 


For every clime and nation. 
On this blessed night. 
Who will not come with joy to see so fair a sight? 

Sympathy He bringeth 

From His Father's throne : 

See ! an angel wingeth 
The deep blue alone, 
To tell that Jesus comes for sinners to atone. 

Our redemption's story 

Hosts of angels sing : 
" In the highest, glory 

To our heavenly King. 
Peace and goodwill to man this holy child doth bring. 

With the angels singing, 

Praise we God on high, 
For this child is bringing 
His salvation nigh ; 
For He in answer comes to man's distressful cry. 

Concord, peace, and union, 

Justice, mercy, love, 
Righteousness, communion, 
Earth and heaven above 
Are by His life and death in harmony inwove. 


Father ! Thou bestowest 

Such a gift to me ; 
What I give Thou knowest 

In return to Thee : 
O let my ransomed life, a living service be ! Amen. 


' Even so we also should walk in newness of life." — Rom. vi. 4. 

Fast the years of life are speeding, 
Silently the moments fall ! 

Time is by these age-marks pleading, 

Hear him, praying, interceding, 

On this holy natal morn, 

When another year is born, 
Listen to his urgent call. 


Around the golden sun 
My course I run 

Unwearied ; night and day. 
My youth revives me now, 
The crown is on my brow, 

The past is far away. 


And, as I travel on for ever, 
Nearest, dearest, ties I sever, 
I shall see bright things decay ! 

Unmoved alike by smile or tear, 

Nor praise, nor blame I pause to hear. 
O man ! thy years are fast decreasing, 

Age approaches sure tho' slow, 
The number of thy days increasing 
Tells thee, soon will come the end. 
Say whither doth thy journey tend ? 

And whither wilt thou go ? 

Live true in me ; 

For soon thou'lt reach eternity. 


My heart replies : Year newly born ! 
On this thy natal morn, 

I to God myself do give. 
Bear me gently in thine arm, 
Guard my soul from every harm. 
Shield me from each wicked charm, 

Let me in God's favour live ! 
Guide me safely o'er the mountains, 
Lead me by green meads and fountains, 

And, when thy last hours draw near, 
Lay me at the feet 
With commendation meet, 

Qi the coming year 1 


Or, should my Heavenly Father now, 
So will, that, e'er thy course be run, 
With languid eye and burning brow 

I should behold my setting sun, 
And lay me down to rest 
Within our ancient mother's breast, 
I charge thee, let me go in peace, 
And grant my soul a calm release. 


Ah ! while the dead are sleeping 
And friends are weeping, 

Thou wilt, each Even and Morn, 
In all thy beauty, pass them by, 
While spring breathes many a gentle sigh ? 
And summer shines in glory down 
On earth's bright, regal crown, 

And autumn smiles on fruit and corn. 
Beneath the fading stars 

Shalt thou display thy crest, 
When day, in shadowy beauty borm 

Shineth from east to west. 
But soon 'neath sunset's molten bars, 

Shalt thou, in death, sink down to rest, 
Or ere the primrose moon has filled her change- 
ful horn. 


But I, ia death shall not remain, 

I shall awake once more, 
A voice shall call me forth again, 

To dwell upon the sunless shore, 
Where endless day is given, 
Beyond the flight of years, in heaven \ 
Yonder in the calm seclusion 

Of my Father's home above. 
Free from sin and all illusion, 

I shall dwell in light and love, 
And everlasting day, 
When Time's brief years have passed away. 

Press on my soul^ 

To that bright goal, 

Lend wings, O Faith, to fly I 

For there alone is bliss. 
When Jesus calls me, why should I 

Dwell in a world like this ? 
Angels bright, the message bear, 

That I am coming home ; 
That this New Year, beneath your care, 

I heavenward roam ! 


"And they crucified Him." — S. Matt, xxvii. 35. 

Oh ! for a harp of heavenly sound, 
To sing the cross with awe profound : 
Oh ! for a pencil dipped in love, 
To paint the Son of God above, 

On the accursed tree. 
If mortal, who by Him was made, 
Spirit Divine, may ask Thine aid 
To sweep, with weakest hand, the lyre, 
Fill me with Thy celestial fire, 

Instruct and succour me : 
To me Thy sacred unction bring, 
And give me strength and grace to sing 

Of Christ on Calvary ! 

Calmly " the Man of sorrows " now 
With limbs transpierced and bleeding brow, 
The sin of all mankind doth bear, 
For none can in His suffering share, 

He bears it all alone. 
The rulers, priests, and passers by, 
Revile Him, and with taunting cry 


His claims they ask Him there to prove, 
11 Show us a token of God's love, 

And from the cross come down." 
For them His heart in silence bleeds, 
For them He prays and intercedes, 

Alone, yet not alone. 

And tho' by nail and spear point torn, 
While bearing man's malignant scorn, 
For all His foes He intercedes — 
4< Father, forgive them," Jesus pleads, 

And ere He prayed forgave. 
He saves the ruffian thief who prays, 
And grieves that one no grief displays. 
Now to His loved disciple John, 
He leaves His mother — all alone — 

And dies mankind to save. 
A sword has pierced that mother's heart, 
His loved disciple felt the smart 

Beside the open grave. 

Around His cross the dread array 
Of hell is gathered, hoping they 
May find Him weak, by sorrow shaken, 
For now, as if by God forsaken 

The Sufferer they see ! 
Hark how He cries in agony 
" My God ! My God ! Why leavest Thou Me ? " 


Then from His lips, in anguish, burst 
That word of weariness : " I thirst." 

Oh, list His loud, triumphant cry 
" 'Tis finished," and, yet ere He die, 

" Father, receive Thou Me." 

Shake to thy centre, Earth \ and fall, 
For on that cross the Lord of all 
The universe is hanging now, 
With death's cold sweat upon His brow ; 

Who, by His power has taken 
The light from out the sun at noon, 
And robed the world in midnight gloom. 
The temple veil is rent in twain, 
The sleeping dead are raised again, 

And thou, O Earth, art shaken. 
But by His will thou art sustained 
To hold Him up, thus pierced and pained. 

Apparently by God forsaken. 

His arms outspread to draw men home, 
Where'er in sinful paths they roam, 
And whoso looks upon Him lives, 
His cross the throne whence life He gives, 

And power to mount the skies. 
And, as to Israel's sleeping seer, 
The way to heaven in vision clear, 


Was by the Lord made known at night, 
So we in vision clear and bright 

Behold where Jesus dies ; 
And know thro' Him our sins forgiven, 
And by His cross we mount to heaven, 

With Him we die and rise ! 

To save mankind His purpose strong, 
Nor taunt, nor mockery, nor wrong, 
Could change His love for sinful man, 
Whom He has loved ere time began, 

And came from heaven to save. 
And by His Spirit to draw nigh, 
And by obedience raise on high 
To God's right hand in love and grace, 
Secure within His holy place : — 

Triumphant o'er the grave ! 
And all who follow Him shall taste 
His cross, His death. His life, at last 

The faithful, true, and brave ! 

Truth, peace, and life, and love, and grace, 
Behold we in the Saviour's face. 
By dying, these, He gives to all 
Who on Him in repentance call, 

He offers them to thee ! 
From darkness, doubt, and woe, and sin, 
And foes without, and eruilt within. 


And wily lusts, and pain, and woe, 
And fear, which would His cross forego, - 

From all, He setteth free. 
O Lord, Thy love to me reveal, 
And let me all Thy goodness feel, 
And Thy salvation see. 

Oh, dread and awful mystery, 
That One of the Eternal Three 
Should suffer thus, that man might live, 
And everlasting life receive, 

And dwell in heaven above. 
Man lost by sin his high estate, 
And for him Christ must compensate. 
The life of one as pure as Heaven 
A sacrifice must now be given : 

God gave His holy dove ; — 
His best beloved, His only Son, 
For man's transgressions to atone. 

Oh, wondrous, boundless love ! 

Help me, O Lord, my cross to bear, 
Whate'er it be, or woe, or care, 
And learn of Thee to pray for those 
Who multiply my griefs and woes, — 

O'ercome my stubborn will ! 
Newness of life to me impart, 
Change and renew my sinful heart, 


Help me to crucify the flesh, 
And every day, by deeds afresh, 

Thy law in me fulfil, 
Until I reach my home at last, 
All toil, and sin, and conflict past, 

On Zion's holy hill. 

The cross, whereon the Saviour dies, 
Is higher far than yonder skies, 
For heaven thro' it enjoys sweet peace ; 
Its depth, the sinner to release, 

Than deepest hell is lower. 
Its breadth the fallen sons of men 
Doth compass ; and to heaven again 
It brings the weary wanderer home, 
Ne'er from his Father's house to roam, - 

Thence to go out no more. 
Its length and saving power shall be 
As long as vast eternity. 

Bend low, my soul ! Adore ! 

Eternal life and strength, O Lord, 
Let Thy dear cross to me afford ; 
Peace and refreshment let it bring 
To me, and all men, while I sing 
The sweetness of Thy Name ! 
From sinful bonds and self release us, 
Almighty God, All-gracious Jesus ! 


And let me ever here abide 

Beneath Thy cross whence flows the tide 

Which covers all my shame, 
And cleanses me from sin and guilt ; 
For me, for all, Thy blood was spilt ; 

This truth, my harp ! proclaim. 

Lord, let the stream from Jesus' side 
Flow down on me, and like the tide 
Which bears all filth in swift career 
Within the deep to disappear, 

Bear all my sins away. 
Oh, let that stream so cleanse my soul, 
That when I reach life's distant goal, 
I may on angel wings be borne 
To wait the resurrection morn, 

In realms of cloudless day ; 
And may that crimson tide ne'er stand, 
Till every clime and every land 
To Christ their homage pay. 

Hark ! how the heavens with anthems ring 

The saints redeemed in glory sing : 

" Unto Christ be ever given, 

All the crowns of earth and heaven ; 

All praise to Him afford. 
Thou, Lord, art worthy to receive 
Riches and power from all who live, 


Wisdom and strength, and honour high, 
Glory and bliss eternally 

To Thee, O Christ, be poured. 
For Thou at first hast given us breath ■ 
When lost, Thou hast redeemed from death. 

Accept our praise, O Lord ! " 


"The Lord is risen indeed.' — S. Luke xxiv. 34. 

Day most holy, 

With the lowly 
Findest thou a welcome sweet ! 
Darkness fleeth far before thee, 
Eight, in glory, broodeth o'er thee. 
Peace and joy thy coming greet. 

In commotion 

Earth and ocean 
Hymn thy praises to the sky ! 
Sunlight, thro' the forest glancing, 
Wakeneth beauties soul entrancing ■ 
Fair around and bright on high. 

Day most holy 

For the lowly 
Bringest thou glad tidings here ! 
On thy first, bright, glorious morning 
Light, — God's footsteps fair, adorning, 
Shone upon our darkened sphere. 


" Christ is risen ! " 

Death's dark prison 
He hath burst, for all His saints, — 
On this day by holy Angel, 
Published was this glad Evangel, 
Hush, O mourner ! thy complaints. 

And from heaven 

Soon was given, 
Like a rushing, mighty wind, 
God's Eternal, Holy Spirit, 
Making man new life inherit. 
Him, may we, on Sabbaths, find ! 

Father holy ! 

Saviour lowly ! 
Spirit blessed ! raise us high 
From the death where Thou hast found us, 
And with glory bright, surround us, 
When to self and sin we die ! 



O Father, Holy Spirit, Blessed Saviour ! 
Help us to worship in Thy house to-day, 
Regard us all with Thy most tender favour, 
While we, in concert, at Thy footstool pray. 

1 2 


And when we sing sweet hymns of adoration, 
Or pray, — bowed lowly at Thy sacred feet, — 
Or hear Thy heralds tell of Restoration 
To Thee, O Lord our God, as is most meet. 

Devotion, sacred, tender, rapt and holy, 

Which fills the minds of those whose hearts are pure : 

O God of grace, Who lovest dear the lowly, 

Pour down upon us and our hearts assure. 

Now while we worship Thee, Thy sunbeam's glory 
Fills all Thy house with golden rays of light, 
Which looks like that bright land of sacred story, 
Where nevermore shall come the shades of night. 

O happy day ! O blessed foretaste given 
Of that bright home which all true souls awaits : 
Which some enjoy e'en now with Thee in heaven, 
While we adore Thee at the outer gates. 

Low at the Holy Table humbly kneeling \ — 
The solemn prayer of Consecration said, — 
A sacred awe my heart the meanwhile feeling 
I took and at 2 in love the broken bread. 


And then, the tender words of prayer repeating, 
My trembling hands the sacred chalice held, 
When lo ! a wondrous sight my vision greeting, 
All slavish fear from out my heart expelled ! 

The summer sun shone down in glory golden, 
And through the windows brightly shed his rays, 
Lighting in one that pictured story olden, 
Which ever calls for man's devoutest praise. 

The Saviour dying, bruised and pained and wounded, 
In calm and holy majesty divine ; 
His brow in mockery with thorns surrounded, — ■ 
Was all reflected in the trembling wine ! 

With awe mine eyes beheld that holy vision, 
Which evermore in memory I shall trace, 
Until in rapture sweet, in home Elysian, 
I see the glory of that pictured face ! 


As evening gently falleth 
O'er God's bright, holy day, 

And while His Mercy calleth, 
Come to His house and pray. 

Nature in peace rejoices 
Or ere comes on the Night, 


And all her myriad voices 
To call us forth unite ! 

Come ere the stars are shining 

In Night's dark vault above ; 
Come when the Day is declining, 

To praise Redeeming love. 
Come when the music calleth 

Of the church bells' silvery sound ; 
Come when the Moon's light falleth, 

In beams from heaven, around ! 

Come when the soul with sweetness 

Is gentle, holy, calm ! 
Come in the Spirit's meetness, 

To taste of heavenly balm. 
And with the faithful kneeling, 

Join in the common prayer, 
Speak all thy heart's true feeling, 

For One who hears, is there ! 

Pray for the weary-hearted, 

The halt, the maimed, the blind, — 
Who weep o'er joys departed, 

Or men who are unkind. 
Pray for the sick who languish 

In want, and pain, and woe, — 
Whose hearts are wrung with anguish— 

Who grief and sorrow know ! 


Pray for the souls benighted, 

And friends who far may roam ; 
Pray for the dear ones lighted 

By love's pure light, at home ! 
And let thy thanks to heaven 

Ascend like incense sweet, 
For blessings richly given 

Return sweet praises meet, 


" Thou hast ascended on high." — Fsalm lxviii. 1 8. 

See the Saviour in His glory mounting to the gates of 

See the clouds around Him folding, and the skies before 

Him riven. 
Hark ! "the sons of God " are singing, Alleluia, Praise 

the Lord ! 
All His saints swell loud the chorus, with a sweet and 

glad accord. 

Glory, praise, and might, and honour, unto Jesus Christ 

be given, 
Who has conquered death, and opened unto all the gates 

of heaven. 
Now He enters as the Firstfruits, where His people soon 

shall be, 
When they too, like Him, have conquered, — thro' Him 

gained the victory. 


Saviour ! reigning now in glory, plead for us that we 

may live ; 
Send to us Thy quickening Spirit, grace for grace let us 

That reflecting back Thine image, as we daily grow like 

All the world may join Thy standard, and Thy power 

and ^lorv see I 


" Receive ye the Holy Ghost." — S. John xx. 22. 

Blessed Spirit, Holy Ghost, 
Breathe on us at Pentecost ! 
Fill us with Thy light and love, 
And all graces from above. 
Make us pure in thought and word. 
Make us meet t© serve the Lord, 
That our life may ever be 
One sweet song of praise to Thee ! 

We are dark, be Thou our light, 
We are weak, be Thou our might, 
We are sinful, make us pure, 
We are wavering, us assure, 
We are dead, O give us life, 
By Thy peace assuage our strife, 
That in love and joy we may 
Live to Thee from day to day. 

Speak thro' us, O Spirit blest, 
Lead us to Thy promised rest, 


Let the light of love divine 

Thro' our lives in beauty shine. 

May we go from strength to strength, 

Till we reach our home at length, 

There the praises ever sing 

Of our Saviour, God, and King ! 

Thine the light, to show the way, 
Thine the strength for every day, 
Thine the peace which Christ imparts, 
Thine the joy for earnest hearts. 
Thine the graces freely given 
Unto all who thirst for heaven ! 
On us shower them, Lord, that we 
May live only, all, for Thee ! 


"Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, 
and is to come." — Rev. iv. 8. 

Jehovah ! at whose dread command, 

In life's first opening days, 
The rolling sea and solid land 
Arose ! and still in order stand, 
Hold Thou my feeble, trembling hand 

To tune my harp to praise. 

O gentle Jesu ! who didst bear 

The spite of human wrong, 
Thy holy life and death declare 
That Thou Thyself in nought didst spare, 
That all may Thy salvation share, 

Thy love awakes my song. 

Spirit of holiness and grace ! 

Thy w r onted influence bring, 
Attune my harp to holy lays, 
Assist my tongue with grateful praise, 
Of all Thy wondrous works and ways 

Songs in the night to sing. 


O Triune God ! my soul aspires 

To sing of Thee alone : 
My holiest thoughts and best desires 
Would fain be like those altar fires, 
Whose bright, unfolding flame conspires 

To kiss Thy glorious throne. 

When from Thy hand the worlds were sent. 

In boundless space to move, 
The Sons of God in wonderment 
Beheld, and heaven's high concave rent 
With shouts of joy, and rapture blent, 

And harps attuned by love. 

And I, unworthy though I be, 

To wake the Poet's lyre ; 
Yet love to woo sweet Poesy, 
And tune my harp, O Lord, to Thee, 
And sing Thy praise in ecstasy, 

Cleanse Thou my lips with fire ! 

As nature's choirs, with one sweet voice, 

Proclaim at morn and even 
Thy Name, in which their souls rejoice, 
Let this be e'er my spirit's choice, 
Like them, though with an humbler voice, 

To sine: to Thee in heaven. 


Let me, like that sweet bird which sings 

At night near grove or river, — 
In earth's sad night hold communings 
With Thee, Jehovah, King of kings, 
Till, borne to Thee on seraphs' wings, 
I sing Thy praise for ever, 


" I write so 
Of the only truth-tellers now left to God, 
The only speakers of essential truth, 
Opposed to relative, comparative, 
And temporal truths ; the only holders by 
His sun-skirts, thro' conventional gray glooms ; 
The only teachers who instruct mankind 
From just a shadow on a charnal-wall 
To find man's veritable stature out 
Erect, sublime, — the measure of a man 
And that's the measure of an angel, says 
The Apostle." 

E. 13 Browning. 



Ah Head ! so bruised and wounded, 

Denied, and put to scorn ; 
In mockery surrounded 

With that sharp crown of thorn, 
Hail Thou ! — Whose former glory 

Is changed and faded now, 
And pallid turned, and gory, — 

Before Thee angels bow. 

All strength, and grace, and vigour, 

Have faded hence away, 
For death with cruel rigour 

Asserts his tyrant sway. 
Thus fainting, weary, wasting, 

Reviled, condemned, despised, 
Death Thou for me art tasting, 

For me Thou art sacrificed. 


In this Thine awful passion, 

Good Shepherd ! think of me, 
Thy gentle sweet compassion, 

O Jesu ! let me see. 
Ah, spurn me not, my Saviour, 

Though guilty, vile, and base, 
Bend Thy meek head in favour, 

Vouchsafe to me Thy grace. 

Could I, O Lord, most holy, 

My life for Thee lay down, 
On this Thy cross so lowly, 

That would be my renown. 
My spirit longs to bless Thee 

For this Thy bitter death, 
O let me here confess Thee, 

And with Thee yield my breath. 

When Death appears before me, 

Be Thou my strength and shield, 
And let Thy face shine o'er me 

In agony revealed. 
Thus, Lord, may I behold Thee, 

And on Thy sufferings dwell ; 
While firm by faith I hold Thee : 

Who dieth thus, dies well.* 

* There is a most appropriate tune to these words, composed by 
Bach for a German paraphrase of this hymn. I have named the 
tune "Ad Faciem Christi." 


Hail, Thou Head defiled and torn, 
Crowned and bruised with piercing thorn, 
Shattered, wounded, as decreed, 
Smitten with the cruel reed, 

Marred Thy face I see ! 
Hail, Thou holy, peaceful brow, 
Whence life's bloom has vanished now ; 
Nought but deadly pallor reigns ; 
Yet, tho' death Thy life retains, 

Angels worship Thee ! 

All Thy vigour, all Thy strength, 
Gone, alas ! have now at length, 
Death hath his cold signet set — 
Drooping and with blood drops wet — 

On Thy face divine. 
All this cruel death and scorn 
Thou, O Christ, for me hast borne. 
While those signs of love I see, 
Which Thou, Lord, hast borne for me, 

O turn Thy face on mine ! 

In this bitter agony, 

O good Shepherd, think on me, 



From Whose lips of love divine 
I have taken living wine, 

Worth all else beside. 
Do not send me now away ; 
Tho ? unworthy, with me stay : 
Now that death is near to Thee, 
Bend Thy head in love to me. 

And with me abide ! 

Could I suffer, Lord, for Thee, 
That divinest joy would be ! 
On Thy cross with Thee to die, 
And in death with Thee to lie 

In the grave beneath. 
Loving Jesu ! Thee I bless; 
Thou so full of blessedness ! 
Grant to me, Thy guilty one, 
That with Thee, and Thee alone, 

I may be in death. 

True it is that I must die ; 
Lord, when that dread time is nigh, 
Come to succour me with power, 
In that solemn, trying hour 

Save and set me free ! 
When Thou callest me away 
Unto realms of life and day, 
Lord of life and love be near, 
On Thy saving cross appear — 

Show Thyself to me ! 



O Domine Deus, 

Speravi in Te ; 

O care mi Jesu 

Nunc libera me : 

In dura catena, 

In misera, poena, 

Desidero Te. 
Languendo, gemendo, et genuflectendo, 
Adoro, imploro, ut liberes me. Amen. 


O Lord my God, 

I have hoped in Thee; 
O Jesu beloved, 

Now liberate me : 
In the bond of my chain, 
In the woe of my pain, 
I am longing for Thee. 
Languishing, weeping, and bowing the knee, 
I entreat, I implore Thee, to liberate me. Amen. 



Soon shall come the happy hour, 
When life's heat again shall seek 

Every nerve with quickening power, 
And light up the glowing cheek. 

Then the forms which now decay, 

And in mounds, inactive, lie, 
Shall, in gladness, flee away 

With their spirits to the sky. 

Hence by us this reverence paid 

To the tombs of those we love, 
Where in solemn pomp arrayed, 

Calm they wait for joys above. 

Hence the shroud of virgin white, 

Which enwraps them, decked with flowers, 
Tells, by hope, of pleasures bright 

J Mid yon fadeless, heavenly bowers. 


Hence the hollowed, rocky cave, 

Funeral dirge and holy prayer : 
For the body in each grave 

Is not dead, but slumbers there, 



Once I crossed this stream before, 
Years since then have passed away ; 

Stands the castle as of yore, 
Now, as then, the waters play. 

In this boat with me, beside 

Sat two friends in love and truth, 

One was, like a father, tried, 

One was flushed with hope and youth. 

That one meekly toiled and died, 
And unknown his name at last ; 

This for fame and glory vied, 
Perished he in battle blast. 

And, whene'er on days gone by 

Think I thus, for evermore 
Must my heart in anguish sigh 

For the friends I loved of yore ? 


No ! united friend with friend 

Still remains for ever one, 
And our spirits yet can blend 

Though from sight their forms are gone, 

Take, O boatman, thrice thy charge ; 

Take — I give it willingly ; 
For in this thy little barge 

Two bright spirits crossed with me ! 



In God's blest counsel, good and wise, 
It is decreed, from what we prize, 

That we must part. 
And ah ! there is not in our life 
More bitter sorrow/deadlier strife, 

For any heart. 

If unto thee a bud be given, 
And thou wilt water it at even, 

Of this take heed : 
It blooms at morn a rose so bright, 
Yet fades it ere the coming night ; 

That know indeed ! 

And has God given a love to thee ? 
And dost thou hold her dear in fee, 

Thy very own ? 
Alas ! in but a little while, 
She leaves thee with one sad, sweet smile \ 

Then weep alone ! 


But I would have thee entertain 
This hope, which fainting hearts sustain, 
As men repeat : We meet again ! ::c 

* There is a sweet tune to these verses composed by Mendelssohn. 
I have made the translation in the metre of the original to suit the 



Two chambers has the heart, 

Wherein dwell 
Both Joy and Grief, which never part. 

As wakens Joy in one, 

Then slumbers 
Grief deeply in her owa 

O Joy, do thou take care, 

Speak lowly, 
Lest Grief awake ! Beware ! 



Pain's wild, hot flames within me quiver, 
My God Himself the fire doth blow, 

With anguish sore my heart doth shiver 
And tremble at the fiery glow : 

Calmly I whisper: "As God will," 

And in the hottest fire hold still. 

To lay my weary heart He hastens, 

Upon His anvil hard and cold, 
And there with hammer strokes He chastens, 

And fain His likeness would behold : 
I bow, and answer: " As God will," 
And to His heaviest stroke hold still. 

He holds my heart, and as He beats it, 
The sparks fly off at every blow, 

He turns it o'er and o'er, and heats it, 
He lets it cool, He makes it glow : 

Vet calmly speak I : " As God will," 

And in His mighty hand hold still. 


And what would profit idle sorrow ? 

The trial longer-lived would be, 
The end may come and will to-morrow, 

If God has done His work in me. 
In faith I answer : "As God will," 
And to the end hold by Him still. 

He kindles for my profit purely, 

The fierce hot flames of pain and woe, 

And all the heaviest strokes are surely 
From His wise Master hand, I know. 

In prayer I whisper : " As God will/' 

And wait on Him, and suffer still ! 



Jesu ! how beautiful art Thou, 
Great universal Saviour King ! 
Before Thee, Lord, in love I bow, 
To Thee my crown of honour bring, 
Thou Son of God and Mary. 

How beautiful are verdant fields ; 
More beautiful the leafy wood 
When Spring her dazzling glory yields ; 
Our Jesus is more pure and good ; 
Our sad hearts He doth strengthen. 

How beautiful the bright-haired sun ; 
More beautiful the silver moon, 
When stars their shining courses run ; 
Jesus is brighter far than noon, 
Or angels in the heavens. 

How beautiful the flowers shine ; 
More beautiful by far is man 
When youth and love and strength combine ; 
But past how soon is life's brief span. 
Jesus abides for ever. 


And all the beauty which we see 
In heaven above and earth below, 
Is centred, Jesu, Lord, in Thee : 
O grant us grace Thy face to know, 
And look on us in sweetness. 

And when I die, O Lord, at last, 
Let me not perish \ hold me fast ; 
May I then be wholly Thine \ 
And when my weak heart breaking is, 
O let me say in holy bliss, 
Jesu, Jesu, Jesu mine ! 



Thou art of flowers the brightest, 
So sweet, so pure, so fair ! 

I look on thee, and sadness 

Weighs down my heart with care. 

It seems as if, while laying 
My hand on thee, 'twere meet 

That I should pray \ God keep thee 
So pure, so fair, so sweet ! 



Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
Eight resounds on the belfry bell ; 
Eight believed God's Holy Word, 
And saw the judgments of the Lord. 
Take care of every fire and light, 

That evil may not aught befall ; 
God grant to each a peaceful night, 
May He receive the prayer of all. 


Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
Nine strikes now on the belfry bell ; 
Nine ungrateful still remained, 
Praise ye Christ, Whom sin hath pained. 
Take care etc. 


Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
Ten peals now on the belfry bell ; 


Ten are the Holy Commandments given 
To man below by God in heaven. 
Take care etc. 


Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
Eleven sounds on the belfry bell ; 
Eleven Apostles of holy mind 
Preached the Gospel to mankind. 
Take care etc. 


Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
Twelve has pealed on the belfry bell ; 
Twelve short hours in every day 
Remain for man to work and pray. 
Take care etc. 


Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
One resounds on the belfry bell ; 
One thing should be highly priced ; 
Abide with us, Lord Jesus Christ. 
Take care etc. 


Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
Two strikes now on the belfry bell ; 



Two paths before mankind are free, 
Lord ! in the narrow guide Thou me. 
Take care etc. 


Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
Three sounds now on the belfry bell ; 
Three we serve, with the heavenly host, 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 
Take care etc. 


Hark ! ye people, and hear me tell, 
Four has pealed on the belfry bell ; 
Four-fold yields the garden soil ; 
Man ! what yields thy spirit's toil ? 

Awake ! revive your minds from sleep, 
For now the night has passed away ! 
Praise God Who doth His children keep 
To see, in peace, another day. 



My heart, I now would ask thee, 
Ah, what is true love ? — say. 

" Two souls, as one in thinking, 
Two hearts which beat one way." 

And say from whence love cometh ? 

" She comes and she is here !" 
Tell me how love departeth ? 

" That love is not sincere." 

And what is pure love ? — tell me. 

" That which is poor, I wis." 
And when is love the deepest ? 

" When she most silent is." 

And when is love the richest ? 

" When she gives most away." 
Tell me how true love speaketh ? 

" She speaks not, but loves for aye." 



Ah ! this vale of woe and sadness, 

Which the cold mist hangs around, 
How my heart would leap with gladness, 

Could I reach its utmost bound ! 
There, in light, fair hills are lying, 

Bright with everlasting day. 
O for wings ! that, swiftly flying, 

To those hills I might away. 

Music thence steals softly near me,— 

Sounds of heavenly song and psalm, 
And the swift winds gently bear me 

Odours sweet of fragrant balm. 
Ripe yon golden fruits are glowing, 

Through their leaves of brightest green, 
And the flowers, for ever blowing, 

Winter storms have never seen. 

O how glorious on those mountains 
Forth to walk in such sweet air ! 


And to see, from golden fountains, 
Sunshine floating everywhere ; 

But I may not go ! for, flashing 
Grim between, a torrent boils, 

From its waves so fiercely dashing- 
Back my trembling soul recoils ! 

There, a boat I see is steering, 

But alas ! the pilot's gone.* 
Board her quickly, nothing fearing, 

Her bright sails will float anon. 
Venture forth ; let Faith be near thee ; 

Of the gods no pledge demand, 
And a miracle shall steer thee 

Into that bright wonder-land ! 

* If Schiller meant anything more than the land of Phan: 
this poem, the above is an unfortunate line. In the last hour of life 
the Pilot of the Galilean Lake will be near to steer the fa 
Christian's bark safe into the haven of eternal rest. — Translai 



Before the arena waiting, 

A fight anticipating, 

And Kingly games, 
Sat King Franz, ? mid his nobles, crowned ; 
And on high, on the balcony all around, 

Was a garland of noble dames. 

As in command his ringer is lifted, 
Backwards the heavy bolts are shifted ; 
And, treading with stately mien, 
A lion bold is seen ! 

Without a sound 
He looks around, 

And, lazily yawning, 

Stretching and fawning, 

He shakes his mane, 

And lies down on the plain. 

The King signs again, 
And is opened amain 
A second door : 


Out runs, with wild spring, 

A tiger forth ! 
Beholding the forest King 

Loud he doth roar. 
Fiercely he growls, 
And gloomily scowls ; 

His tail he swings 

In fearful rings, 
And licks his bloody jowls ! 

He walks, spell bound, 

The lion around, 
And, snarling and purring, 
Some anger incurring, 

He lies on the ground. 

The King signs again 

The bolts to unchain ; 
Two doors are opened at once, and then 
Two leopards are vomited from the den. 
With courage bold and dread, 
They rush to seize the tiger's head ; 
Who, with his paws extended wide, 
Prepares to strike on either side. 
When fiercely doth the lion roar, 
And rising, calms them all once more. 

Then, in a fearful ring 

Around the lion King, 
The angry beasts repose. 


Now, from the balcony above, 

Falls, from a beautiful hand, a glove ; 

Between the lion and tiger it lies, 

[n sooth, for a Knight, a dainty prize ! 

Then to Delorges, the valiant Knight, 

Turns Lady Kunigund, with scornful delight 

" Sir Knight, if your love as ardent be 

As you swear and vow so carelessly, 

Prove it, and let my glove be brought," 

At once the Knight, as swift as thought, 

Steps upon the arena sand 
With bold and hasty stride, 
And from the furious monsters' side 

He takes the glove with fearless hand ! 

Both Knights and Ladies, shuddering, gaze 
With mingled terror and amaze ; 

Calmly he brings the glove again, 
As shouts of welcome around him shower, 
But the looks of joy all shine in vain 
(Tho' the heart in love they might enchain) 

From the Lady Kunigund's bower. 
For right in her face he threw the glove, 
" Thanks, Dame, I ask not, nor thy love," 
And forsook her the selfsame hour. 

Ilazell, Watson, and Viney, Printers, London and Aylesbury.